Why it Snows in Spring
by EternalEclipse
Summary: Once Clarabella Bloom meets Jack Frost, trouble befalls them: Mother Nature wants to keep them apart, and Jack wants to include her in his plot to become Santa Claus. Can they salvage their relationship? Or will another unforeseen force separate them?
1. Lo, at Their Births Good Stars were Oppo

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** Hello, everyone! So, this holiday season, I had the urge to watch _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_… over and over again due to the ever so lively and intriguing character Jack Frost. As a writer, I am always drawn to well-written and well thought-out characters, and this was definitely so in Jack Frost's case. I began wondering what he would be like as a romantic lead in a fanfiction—would it be believable? When I heard his line in which he lists everything Santa has that he doesn't, it made me think that this question could, if planned out properly, be answered in the positive, since he includes the fact that Santa has a wife while he does not. This fanfiction is a result of this realization. It also came to be because there really aren't enough Jack Frost fanfictions out there to begin with. :P His character is also largely unexplored, for the most part. We don't know much about him other than his antagonistic desires to become Santa Claus. I plan, in this fanfiction, to uncover further dimensions of this character to see how he would fare as a romantic lead in a story focused mostly on him. This being said, I would like to state that I will not, in any way, alter his character to write him as the romantic lead. All I will do is take the interpretation of him the movie provided and explore further dimensions of his personality as the story unwinds. Enjoy! I would love to hear everyone's thoughts, comments, suggestions, and reactions in **reviews!**

Additionally, I'd like to note that this is mostly compliant with _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. The only place I currently have it planned to be slightly AU is at one point in Jack's plan to become Santa Claus. I'm sure those reading this fanfiction will know what I'm talking about when the time comes. This is set before, during, and after _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause._

Constructive criticism is encouraged! No flames.

**Publish Date:** Sunday, March 21, 2010.

_**Why it Snows in Spring**_

Chapter One: Lo, at Their Births Good Stars were Opposite

As soon as the meeting ended, Jack turned and left the hall. He had much to think about—that meeting had been… something else in his book.

"_I have an announcement to make." Mother Nature's voice sliced through the commotion Jack caused when he showed up late to a very important meeting for the Council of Legendary Figures; they were introducing their newest members, the two other seasonal sprites, to the rest of the Council. The members glanced at one another and immediately took their seats._

_Mother Nature's face was taut in a solemn expression; what she was about to declare was law._

"_To our seasonal sprites: Jack Frost of winter, Clarabella Bloom of spring, Bridgette Burns of summer, and Doyle Stark of autumn—you are to marry by the end of next year."_

_Jack was the first to rise, ready to protest, but Mother Nature continued without waiting for the sprites' responses: "Jack Frost will marry Bridgette Burns. Doyle Stark will marry Clarabella Bloom."_

_From her seat, Bridgette glanced distastefully up at Jack and scowled at the immature, mischievous sprite. She scoffed. "_Me_ marry _him_? What a preposterous notion." Her voice, although as low and controlled as normal, held the force of an ocean wave crashing to the shore. She flipped a strand of her short hair behind her ear_

_Clarabella swept her eyes down Doyle's stick-like frame. Although he was a bit on the skinny side, his amber eyes held a fluttering glow that reminded the spring sprite of leaves tumbling from the trees in autumn, and his hair was dark and lanky. _Very cute,_ the blonde thought with an impish grin and a flip of her hair, which held streaks of peridot green in the under layers. "But why do we _need_ to marry each other? Why can't we choose who we marry?" She had asked assertively, being sure to keep her tone polite in the face of her superior._

"_What will happen if we don't—" Doyle began, but was so quiet that Mother Nature replied to Clarabella's question without even hearing him._

"_You are to marry your seasonal opposites." Mother Nature fixed a firm gaze on each of them in turn. "Winter to summer; autumn to spring. I have heard reports that someone is trying to negotiate their season in order to allow more time for it." The eyes of each legendary figure turned immediately to Jack._

"_What?" He defended, holding his ground at the table. From their unwavering stares, he continued, "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, all. And you—" He pointed at Santa and taunted with a sneer, "Aren't you supposed to be the spirit of Christmas; spreading hope and forgiveness and the _benefit of the doubt_?"_

_Santa spread his arms wide, about to respond when Mother Nature banged her gavel against the table. "Jack, sit."_

_Throwing his hands up in the air, he replied, "Hey, I'm just sayin'."_

"Sit_."_

_The winter sprite stared at Mother Nature for a moment, then shrugged and sat. "My legs were aching to sit, anyway." Bridgette squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. Ladies and gentlemen: her future husband._

_Mother Nature made eye contact with each of the sprites before continuing with finality, "If you do not comply, you will be stripped of your powers, and another will take your place as herald of the season." __She slammed the gavel against the table. "This is final. I must ensure the safety of planet Earth and its inhabitants. This is happening because of one sprite's selfishness: one of you." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at them, lingering on Jack the longest before slowly lowering it to regretfully claim, "And if I cannot figure out who it is, then you must all comply; marry your seasonal opposite and do not meet with the sprites who govern the seasons preceding and following yours. If I find you alone with a sprite you should not be alone with, I will have no choice but to assume you are part of the power struggle."_

_Mother Nature fumed, but out of despair. How could they force her into this position? She never wanted it to come to this, but ever since they created job openings for an autumn and spring sprite, she had to keep a careful eye on the balance of the seasons and its affect on nature—her job. She knew from Santa's struggle to marry for love that this was a hefty punishment to bestow upon the sprites. But it was not meant to be a punishment—it was meant to guarantee the safety of every last living thing on Earth. By keeping adjacent seasons away from one another and only allowing them to be around their opposites, she knew that she could restore balance and order in the world: seasonal opposites, having no shared boundaries, could not make negotiations with one another for extensions of their season or gaining specific territories._

_She shut her eyes against the anger and betrayal she felt radiating from the sprites in waves. No, she was doing her job, she was doing what was right: she was protecting the planet._

"_Meeting adjourned." She stormed out of the hall with Father Time in tow, leaving the legendary figures shifting their gaze from one to the next in bewilderment._

Jack clenched his fists as he was jolted from his thoughts and to the present. Bridgette and he had been the only seasonal sprites for as long as he could remember. They mostly stayed out of one another's way because their differences made it difficult to do otherwise. And now he had to _marry_ her? _Her_! That uptight, bland, no-nonsense sprite who looked down her nose at him every chance she got? He was being sentenced to spend the rest of his immortal days in a constant battle between his mischievous ways and her straight-laced attitude!

Not to mention the fact that she was just as old as he, which simply would not do for Jack Frost. He deserved nothing less than the best: a delightful young thing to warm up his lonely winter nights…

That brought his thoughts to Clarabella. Of course, the glimpse of her he had allowed himself at the meeting had told him that she did indeed fit his high-quality criteria, and she certainly seemed to have been graced with a decent sense of humor, unlike Bridgette. But he could never commit his life to someone he couldn't stand, especially for the crime Clarabella committed against him: she upstaged him at every chance she got. All he ever heard come Groundhog Day was the grumbling of humans about how they couldn't wait for spring to come, complaining and questioning why better weather couldn't come six weeks earlier to melt away the dreadful snow and bring warmth to their days…

No, he was definitely better off marrying Bridgette. But how would she fit into his scheme for taking over the title of Santa Claus? She didn't even like him… No, he could think about that later.

Even if he were to marry Clarabella, he could never even hope to get along with someone so attracted to the limelight like a mosquito, sucking every last drop of credit she could from—what?—planting a couple flowers and raining to make them grow? Pfft, even Jack, who barely ever saw her flowers alive since he only encountered them after autumn had ravaged them, could tell all her flowers looked the same—at least he cared enough for his craft to create each snowflake individually and make sure that no two were ever alike.

As he exited Santa's Workshop, he sighed to himself, leaving no fog in the frigid winter air. He missed the good old days when it was just Bridgette and him doing all the work. Sure, things were currently simpler because the difficult seasonal boundaries were now governed by the autumn sprite and spring nymph, and the equinoxes were taken off the solstice sprites' hands which also resulted in less work for them, but.... At least credit used to be given where it was due…

"Jack." A voice like twittering birds found his ears, and he hesitated only a moment before realizing who it had to be.

Shaking his head abruptly, he continued sauntering away, intent on calling it a day with a steaming cup of hot cocoa made to perfection—with just a hint of vanilla—by one of the cocoa elves.

"Jack!" He heard footsteps in the snow; not running, but controlled, as if their owner didn't want to grace him with the satisfaction of hurrying after him.

Jack halted. Could he not be left alone to his thoughts? Or at least be left to enjoy what precious little time he had as a bachelor? He didn't want _her_ around, of all people—she made the icicle-encrusted hairs on the back of his neck prickle on end with annoyance.

Jack half-turned toward Clarabella as she slowly approached in her gold high-heeled boots, her nymph grace preventing her from even wobbling as she trudged a path through the snow. Jack noted with silent amusement that she had donned a long trench coat the color of spring grass emerging from the thawing earth. So she didn't like the cold, eh? If he had his way—and he always did—he'd make sure she never came to enjoy the winter she annually put to an end.

"Miss Bloom." He acknowledged the spring sprite with a curt nod and turned once more to resume his route to the Elfsburg Café.

Clarabella could've sworn the frosted patches on the shoulders of Jack's suit froze to a more pronounced white than before.

"Hey!" Clarabella cried out once more as she reached him. "What's with the cold shoulder? All I want to do is meet you." She stepped in front of him, blocking his path and smiling eagerly up at him.

Jack quickly swerved around her, his shoulder accidentally brushing against hers. Clarabella, although used to the cold that preceded her warmer season, felt goosebumps travel down her arm at his low temperature.

Sliding next to him, Clarabella extended a hand. "I'm Clarabella Bloom."

Jack quickly shook it before retracting his hand. "Charmed." The word shot from his mouth to her ears like an icy dagger.

"You certainly don't sound it," Clarabella declared unabashedly as they stopped beneath the roof of the café.

"Because I'm not," he breezed lightly as he walked through the door. A gust of winter wind rushed past Clarabella and slammed the door in her face.

"One cocoa with vanilla, please," Jack said to the pigtailed elf girl behind the counter.

The bell over the door dinged. The spring sprite was certainly persistent.

Jack inwardly groaned. "Make that a _large_ cocoa," he decided as the elf bobbed her head and set to work on his order. He was going to need it!

With a mischievous smirk and a twinkle in her large bud green eyes, Clarabella approached the winter sprite and spoke smoothly to him, "Don't worry, I'm used to being treated like this."

She produced a compact mirror from her pocket and gazed admiringly into it as she flicked a few strands of buttercup yellow hair out of her face, fancying herself a supermodel with the spring breeze only she could feel constantly fluttering back her locks.

He discreetly mocked her antics while collecting his drink; he batted his eyes, all-too-daintily feathered back his hair, and muttered snootily beneath his breath.

Lifting the mug to his lips, he inquired, "Oh really; and why's that?"

Smooching the mirror, she snapped it shut and slid it back into her pocket. "Oh, it's simple, really." Her face brightened with pride and sincerity as she continued, "Men are so startled and frightened by my beauty that they get defensive and try to push me away. They all come around and fall head over heels for me sooner or later, though. Don't worry," she said with a forgiving wink paired with a grin, "I know your kind _very _well."

Jack snorted into his cocoa. "You're certainly a modest little thing, aren't you?"

As his mouth left the rim of the cup, she noticed the faintest hint of a twitch in its corners.

Clarabella smiled. "Knew I could get a grin." Gesturing to an Elvin-sized set of table and chairs, she requested, "Please, just five minutes of your time. I know you must be a busy sprite, so I won't be long if you don't want me to be."

Jack lifted a frosted eyebrow, but took a careful seat in the short chair she offered. "Sounds fair enough." He said as he settled. "But only five; I've got places to be and people to meet with."

"Of course, of course. Oh, and by the by," Clarabella mentioned as she perched with poise at the edge of her chair and pulled off her jacket, "I made all that up. Well. You know." She flicked her wrist to illustrate the obvious. "Except for the fact that I'm beautiful, as I'm certain you're already well aware—most men are." She fluttered her eyelashes as she lavished self-praise. "But they don't all fall in love with me, I'm afraid."

"Isn't that a shame?" Jack muttered sarcastically into his drink.

"Only the ones I want to," Clarabella blurted enthusiastically with a wide grin at her own joke.

Jack leaned onto the table to flip open his silver pocket watch with a flourish. "You have three minutes and fifty-nine seconds left to go, Miss Bloom. Time is snowflakes." He tucked the watch away and continued, "It may behoove you to make every moment worth our while." He turned his icy gaze toward her expectantly.

Clarabella bobbed her head. "Yes, yes; I'll cut to the chase. The reason why I followed you out here, Jack, is because…" she fixed him with a solid, sincere gaze, "I've wanted to meet you _forever_."

A surge of arrogance shot down the winter sprite's body and inflated his already oversized ego. Lowering the mug slowly, he masked his surprise by inquiring around a smirk, "Well, who wouldn't? Just out of curiosity, though, for which of many reasons were you so interested in meeting moi?"

Clarabella grinned at him. "_Well_," she began, scooting her chair closer to his, "for starters, I _adore_ your work!" She giggled and unabashedly continued, "All your snow and ice really is very beautiful—and so intricately made! You know, I have never found two snowflakes that look alike. And trust me, I've tried. In fact, I confess," she lowered her eyes and, thumbing the edge of the table, continued, shyly for once, "I always leave it alone for an extra six weeks after Groundhog Day because I hate to see it all just… get erased." She raised her gaze to meet his. "Especially after all the hard work you obviously put into it."

Jack felt euphoria bubble up into his head at her praise. What made it all the sweeter was the fact that he believed she was in competition with him—what a victory!

"Well, well, well… I completely and utterly retract my earlier statement," Jack declared in awe, mischief upturning his eyes.

"Which would be?"

Jack gently took hold of her hand, which was slightly warmer than his but not nearly so heated as Bridgette's, and replied, "That I was not charmed to meet you; I am most certainly charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Bloom." He pressed a light smooch to her middle knuckle and smiled intensely up at her.

"Please, call me Clara. I had hoped we were going to be working together soon, but, after that meeting with the Council…" Clarabella rubbed her arm and shook her head sadly. The breeze fluttering back her hair faltered for the moment, and the suspended strands wilted. Suddenly brightening, her hair rising in the air once again, she confessed, "But I'm so happy I got the chance to meet you! I'll have you know that I am your number one fan!"

"Impossible—I've met my number one fan, and he knows far more about me and my work than you do," he dismissed her with a wave as he took another sip of his cocoa.

"O-Oh…" Clarabella said, feeling put out like a dandelion with its seeds blown off. "Well… Who _is_ your biggest fan, if not me?"

"Me!" Jack revealed his joke with a wide smirk and a teasing wink. "But I must say," he swept his eyes down her person purposely, "you are far more appealing to these eyes, my dear."

Clarabella glowed at the attention. "Allow me to get you a cocoa; there's no better place to get them than the North Pole." He began raising his hand to gesture for service when Clarabella interrupted.

"Oh, I've never had hot cocoa before. And the five minutes are up; I know you're a busy man, so…" She smiled regretfully but sweetly up at him as she began pulling her jacket on. "I really am very excited to have met you—"

"Oh, pfft," he brushed off the time with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Please—for such an exquisite thing like you, _Clara_," she beamed when he used the nickname she'd asked him to use, "I have all the time in the world. Now, why would you never have had a cocoa before?"

"Too many calories," came her immediate response as she outlined her slim waist by sliding her hands down her curves. "Besides, drinking cocoa is a winter tradition—a way of keeping warm despite the cold. People are more into drinking tea in the spring, when the herbs and plants used in it are freshly grown. So, I usually just stick to drinking tea."

Jack wrinkled his nose in disgust. Tea tasted bitter and bland to him. "Well, there's a first time for everything." He waved down an elf to place an order for a hot cocoa with vanilla. "And this really is the best place to get it. Of course, it isn't nearly as good as my own special recipe," he shamelessly promoted.

"Ooh, what's in it?" Clarabella leaned forward with interest. Her elbow touched his, sending pleasant prickles up her arm.

Jack shook his head. "No, no—I only tell those closest to me my super secret recipe." He tugged at his cufflinks primly. "Remind me to make you a cup sometime."

Clarabella's eyes narrowed in delight. "I'd really like that, Jack." The elf placed her cocoa in front of her, and she thanked her before taking a sip.

"Well?" Jack arched an eyebrow. "What do you think? Doesn't it taste like a cup of winter?"

Clarabella frowned in concentration. "Well… it's a bit too thick… and sweet… but…" She shrugged and gulped some more at the drink. "It's different," she decided with a small smile. She looked out the window for a moment before gasping and throwing on her jacket immediately. Grabbing Jack's arm in one hand and her cocoa in the other, she said, "Would you show me around? I've never been to the North Pole before—I'd love to be given a tour by the one who makes it so beautiful up here."

Jack chuckled and patted her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. "Oh, Clara, you really are too good for my ego." The nymph's tongue wriggled between her teeth at the compliment. "Of course I'll show you around." He crossed to the door of the shop and held it open with a dramatic bow. "After you, Mademoiselle."

Clarabella giggled and hopped out of the café before slipping her hand into his elbow once more.

.x:X:x.

"Jack, what a wonderful ending to what I was sure was a ruined day! I got to meet you, _and_ you gave me a tour of the North Pole," Clarabella gushed as he saw her to the door of her suite.

Jack chuckled low, his blue eyes darkening with the shadow of a scheme crossing his mind.

"Would you… mind if I asked you something?" She asked before immediately answering herself with a comical roll of her eyes. "Well, of course you wouldn't mind, this is _me_. Anyway," she sobered and asked him hopefully, "I would… simply _jump_ at the chance to watch your technique. You know, with your work. Would you let me watch you work sometime?" She batted her eyelashes at him, as if her looks would convince him to reply in the positive.

Jack grinned broadly. "My dear, I would be honored." Taking hold of her hand in his, he kissed the back of it and said, "And now, Clara, adieu. Until we meet again." He fixed her with a charming smile and smooched her knuckle once more.

Clarabella curtseyed and fluttered her fingers at him in an airy wave before disappearing into her suite.

Jack hurried back to his suite on the other side of the little Christmas village. Locking the door behind him, he leaned against it.

The nymph was interested.

Perfect.

Once he discovered a way to become Santa Claus, he would not have to worry about satisfying the Mrs. Clause that required him to take a wife. Since Bridgette didn't even like him, he wouldn't have to even worry about how he would get her to say yes. He could just as easily fool Clarabella into thinking she was in love with him, not only interested in his work.

It would be simple: all he needed was to get her to say yes. At this rate, he could probably get her to tell him yes tomorrow, if necessary.

Jack strutted to the kitchen, where he kept a constantly-heated batch of his secret recipe hot cocoa. Pouring himself a cupful, he unbuttoned his jacket and folded it over the nearest chair before approaching a mirror.

Slicking his hair back deviously, he smirked wickedly at his reflection.

"Hello… Santa Claus."

He raised the mug to his lips.

**Author's Note:** Ooh, looks like there's evil afoot. But how will it play out? Read and find out! Please read the extra questions I have below; they're basically for you to add to your reviews. They're also good for feedback for improvements for me. Again, I would like to emphasize that while constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, flames are not accepted.

_Questions to the Readers:_ How did you like this as the first chapter of a Jack Frost/OC fanfiction? What do you think will happen? What do you think of Clarabella and the other sprites? What do you think of Jack in this fanfiction?

_Trivia Question:_ I like to post a trivia question to each chapter of my fanfictions because it helps me respond to my reviewers. If you even attempt to answer this question, I will respond to your review. The trivia question for this chapter is: What color is Clarabella's hair?

_Questions to the Characters:_ Rated a low T or lower, please, no exceptions. In your review, if you would like to ask any character in this fanfiction a question, you may. Each chapter I post, I will randomly select one question to the characters to respond to in the first author's note that precedes the chapter.


	2. With Hate in Those Where I Expect Most L

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** Gah, where do I begin? I am _so thrilled _by the reviewers' responses to this fanfiction! I'm so happy to have the support of other _The Santa Clause_ fandom-ers! Thank you all so much for the positivity! And on only the first chapter, too! Please be assured that it will only get better from here as the plot develops. :)

On another note, I hope not to take such a long time in between updates in the future. I will try to post more frequently in the future. Thank you everyone for your understanding.

_Winners of the Trivia Question:_ The answer to the trivia question is: blonde with green streaks underneath, but, since the trivia question is a way for me to reply to my reviewers who want a response from me, I will accept any attempt at the trivia question. Trekkie101 (Thanks so much for all your support! I'm happy to read that you're "in love" with this fanfiction! Thanks for being there to listen to me gush about my ideas! Please keep reading and reviewing! I always look forward to your reviews. :) ), Crimsongypsy (Thank you for the welcome to the fandom; I'm so thrilled to be working on this fanfiction! And thanks for the feedback about Jack—I strive to always keep characters, well, in character! :P And he is just a joy to write. Please keep reading and reviewing! I look forward to your next review!), and ForeverACharmedOne (I just want to say that I really, truly, and honestly enjoyed your thorough review! I always take constructive criticism into consideration, and yours hit the nail on the head! While I agree with you about Clarabella, I have not yet revealed everything about her (and, really, where would the fun be in that? :P) so there is a method to my madness with her character, I promise! :) And, trust me, I, too, have read my share of poorly-written Jack Frost/OC fanfics, and I refuse to include MarySues in any of my fanfictions, use plot devices "just because" as you put it (there will always be good reasons in my writing), or write anyone out of character (especially Jack ;) ) for the purpose of writing a romance fic. I hope this reassures you that I have thought this all through. :) I look forward to hearing more constructive criticism from your future reviews!).

_Questions to the Characters Winner:_ Congratulations Trekkie101!

Clarabella daintily plucked the parchment from the beak of a ruby-throated hummingbird and read the question scrawled on it in neat script.

"What's my favorite tea? Oh, that's easy: as the sprite of spring, I make my own tea from scratch." Clarabella skipped to her kitchen and donned her ladybug apron.

"As you can see," the nymph gestured to a large pitcher resting on the windowsill, shimmering like a jewel in the sunlight, "I'm already making some right now: it's my obscenely famous sunfruit tea." She giggled. "And, yes, I really call it that." She tapped the glass containing the amber liquid with her knuckle.

"Basically, I cut up some mint, fennel, and nettles and dry them. This combination of herbs gives a rich, earthy taste with a hint of sweetness to the tea, and the mint leaves a refreshing aftertaste. I put these herbs into a few tea bags and steep them in boiling water for a little before pouring it all into a pitcher. Then, I like to add some fruit for a little more prominent flavor. It does vary from time to time what fruit I'm in the mood for, but I generally like to cut up and add some cherries, oranges, strawberries, kiwi, and just a wedge or two of lemon for kick. In case you haven't noticed," Clarabella fluttered back a strand of hair, "these are all ingredients that can be found in the very best season of the year: spring!"

She chuckled at her jest as she retrieved a glass and poured herself a drink. "Then, I let it all sit in the sun for a little while—as the nymph of spring, the sun is highly rejuvenating for me—until it steeps to the intensity I want. I usually only let it sit for a quarter-hour because I enjoy my tea to be light and subtle to the taste, but sometimes I let it go for a bit longer in order to really bring out all the flavors." She raised the glass to her lips to take a sip and smiled at the fruity and herbal taste flooding her tastebuds.

"Mm," she murmured, shutting her eyes. "Oh, I almost forgot," she continued, her eyes opening once more, "I always like my tea to be warm—like me, of course." She took another sip before sing-songing, "Thanks for the question, Trekkie101!"

**Publish Date:** Friday, June 11, 2010.

_**Why it Snows in Spring**_

Chapter Two: With Hate in Those Where I Expect Most Love

A light knock thudded from Clarabella's door.

"Just a rain drop!" She called out as she smoothed out her dress.

The spring nymph primped before a mirror, fiddling with her clothes. She adjusted her green belt with a flower-shaped buckle that cinched the waist of her dress. Her fingers fanned out against the layered pink-and-white gauze fabric of her dress cut to look like petals.

Her hands smoothed over her hair, which now held streaks of a lighter green than the day before. She had woven two braids into her hair and folded brightly-colored flower petals among her locks (but she only used petals that had already fallen from their flowers—plucking petals from a flower was, in her mind, equivalent to tearing the limbs off a human; a living thing was hurt either way. In fact, she despised the sadistic "He loves me, he loves me not" game children played with her defenseless flowers; it was nothing short of savage in her book).

Prancing to the door, she opened it to reveal the autumn sprite, towering awkwardly over her with his hands behind his back. His stringy dark hair was entwined with bits and pieces of colored leaves, as if he'd fallen asleep in a heap of them. His loose-fitting shirt was the vivid color of trees at the peak of their turning, just before the inevitable brown claimed them.

"Doyle," Clarabella began with a luminescent smile. "What a pleasant—" he produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and extended them to her.

"…Surprise." The disgust in her voice was concealed with a forced smile that made her expression look fake as a mask. Whatever made humans think that cutting a living thing off from its life source and presenting its carcass to a special someone to demonstrate their feelings was a good idea, Clarabella would never know. Personally, she found it appalling, brutal, and savage. Nevertheless, it was the very gift her husband-to-be presented her with now.

If this weren't bad enough, his touch affected the flowers, as well: they were all wilted and brown.

"Oh, boy," she could scarcely muster through clenched teeth, "how lovely these flowers are." She was sure she sounded like a robot, but if she did, Doyle made no remark about it. On the contrary, he looked relieved.

"Oh, good," he said sincerely on a sigh, "I was worried you'd be so used to creating them that you wouldn't want to receive them."

_Then why get them for me in the first place?_ Clarabella thought furiously as she willed her hand to close around the bouquet and not punch him in the face. She could feel the roses' pain from the ruthless cut in their stems and death's grip at their petals, and felt her mouth dry in sympathy from how parched they were. _It's alright, my babies, Mommy's here._

She forced a chuckle through her clenched jaw. "Oh… What would make you think that?" As much as Clarabella wanted to give Doyle a piece of her mind for ruining a handful of her precious flowers, she didn't think getting into a fight was a great first impression she could give to her husband-to-be.

Doyle shrugged and opened his mouth to reply, but Clarabella raised one finger and inquired, "Just… one moment, please?" before dashing back inside her suite and shutting the door behind her.

"Oh, darlings, I'm so sorry," she cooed as she fluttered into the bathroom, grabbing a vase along the way and filling it with water—warm, soothing water so her flowers could die in comfort.

She tip-toed over to a large window, as if a gentler journey to the sill would ease their suffering. She arranged them in the vase so they could overlook the lovely, quaint village—the last thing they would ever see.

Kneeling so she could look at them directly, she pouted. "Oh, my dears," she lightly fingered their petals and stems, carefully avoiding the thorns, "I'm sorry… there's nothing I can do now. Maybe if I were still at my old job—"

She stopped herself there. She was the sprite of spring, now—the lives of these flowers were now out of her jurisdiction. Clarabella could only infuse them with life to sprout and grow, not help revitalize them as they wilted.

"I'm sorry. I love you all." She blew them three kisses in rapid succession before rising and walking sadly to the door. Stopping a moment to smooth over her dress, she drew in a deep breath, annoyed at Doyle's so-called present. Really, couldn't he use his head?

_It's not like he knew it would upset you_, she tried desperately to remind herself. _Just… take a deep breath and get over it._

She pulled open the door to find his back turned toward her as he muttered to himself. "I was wondering if… No, no… Would you do me the honor of…? May I request your company…?"

Clarabella cleared her throat, and Doyle jerked and turned to face her. She arched an eyebrow in confusion, and he swallowed hard and wiped at a blemish on his clothes that did not exist.

"Uh…" He fumbled. "That is to say…" He squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Alright, Doyle," he whispered to himself, though the nymph could hear every word, "just do like you rehearsed." He raised his voice and, apparently finding comfort in the solitude his closed eyes created, asked, "C-Can I… um… t-take you… somewhere? P-P-Possibly to get something to eat, I mean. Y-You don't have to, of course, if you don't w-want to, but… I just thought that… maybe… we could, you know, g-get to know each other… especially since we're b-b-betrothed."

Doyle opened his eyes and found the nymph surveying herself in a compact mirror. Her fingers fluttered from her lips to her hair, and down to lightly graze her collarbone. She shook her head once and beamed at her reflection, placing a kiss to the mirror before snapping it shut. Realizing that he had finished speaking and his glowing amber eyes were open once more, she giggled in mild embarrassment and twirled a lock of wavy hair around her finger.

"Oh… What was it you were saying?" Her eyelashes trembled as his conversation hit her after a delay. "Oh, yes!" She blurted, sounding more enthusiastic than she really was. "Yes, of course I'll go get lunch with you." She ducked into her suite once more and reappeared with a spring hat, a pair of green-and-pink sunglasses, and a long jacket.

Doyle looked stunned as she arranged the brightly-colored hat on her head. "R-Really? You mean it?" Clarabella nodded and stepped toward him, shutting the door behind her.

"I-I'm sorry I'm so nervous," he began as they walked down the porch together. Clarabella sort of pitied him—he didn't seem to know what else to say to start up a conversation. Doyle's cheeks reddened and he dropped his gaze to his quivering hands. "You must have done this sort of thing loads of times—go out on dates, that is."

"Don't worry about it," she assured him with a nonchalant wave as they passed the Elfburg Spa. "I'm used to men being nervous around me. It's completely understandable, of course." She readjusted her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose.

"R-R-Really?" Doyle sighed with relief. "I'm so glad you understand, Clarabella."

"Clara, please."

"Clara, of course," he immediately corrected himself. "It's just that… it…" He paused in his walking to find the right words, and Clara stopped in front of him.

"It's difficult finding the courage to ask you out on a date—you're so pretty."

"Aw, Doyle," Clarabella lightly cooed as she reached out to touch his arm. "I know!" She gushed before prancing off toward the café. Doyle stared after her for a moment, stunned at her bluntness, before following her.

.x:X:x.

"Ugh, it's _freezing_ out here!" Bridgette declared for the umpteenth time, tightening her grip on her torso.

Jack's head finally snapped to her. "Jacket. You. Look into it." He returned his face to his hand to massage away the beginnings of a headache throbbing dully behind his temple.

Bridgette scowled from her elf-sized recliner chair. "Three words, Jack: Summer. Nymph." She screwed up her face in impersonation of him and drawled, "_Duh_." She shifted slightly, her beach ball yellow towel dress sliding along her tanned, toned legs in the process. "You know I don't own a jacket—I have no use for it." Eying his velvet coat folded neatly over the arm of his chair, she stated, "If you were a gentleman, you'd offer me yours."

"Thank heavens I'm just a sprite, then," Jack muttered before a high-pitched giggle sliced through his headache and shot his body to full attention.

Clarabella.

…On the arm of the autumn sprite, Doyle.

No. No, no, _no_. If she fell for Doyle, his whole plan would be ruined. He could never be Santa Claus without a Mrs. Claus at his side. And Bridgette would never be Mrs. Claus. Clarabella could easily be charmed into his arms: she was young, innocent, and naïve.

And all she needed was a little push.

"Hey, let's take a field trip," he offered to Bridgette abruptly, watching the equinox sprites enter the café.

Bridgette arched an eyebrow. "Are you joking? I'm freezing my skin off here! I can only imagine how cold wherever you want to take me will be." She turned away from him and curled up against the winter winds.

"Let's take a field trip _inside_," Jack elaborated, rising from his chair and jerking his head toward the café.

Bridgette immediately snapped her head back to face him. "Well, why didn't you say so before?" She darted quickly to her feet. Looking down through the snow-filled six inches she had over on him, she shivered and nearly stuttered, "Let's go, then!"

Jack hurried to the door of the café and entered, and Bridgette had to duck to avoid smacking her head on the doorframe.

It wasn't difficult for Jack to find the two sprites—among the crowd of elves, they were the tallest.

Jack watched as Doyle said something that made Clarabella's eyes narrow in amusement, and he hesitantly plucked her hand up from the table. Doyle's lips descended to the delicate flesh of the nymph's wrist, and…

"Clara!" Jack's voice cut through their conversation all-too cheerfully. Doyle's face resembled a fish as he swerved away from the nymph's hand and puckered in the air, wide-eyed and startled.

Jack chuckled under his breath. "And Doyle," he muttered low.

"Jack," Clarabella greeted in a cheerful chirp as the winter sprite gathered her hand into his.

"_Lovely_ to see you again, Clara." Jack caressed her knuckles with his lips and offered a wide grin to Doyle. "Hi."

"And Bridgette!" Clarabella skipped to the summer nymph who towered almost a foot above her and squeezed her in a tight hug.

Bridgette's hazel eyes bugged. "Don't. Touch me."

Clarabella hopped backward immediately and sputtered an apology before Jack interrupted her. "Don't worry, she doesn't bite, she's just not very affectionate. As a matter of fact," he stated as he lowered himself into the seat beside the spring nymph, "I anticipate hearing that constantly once we're married."

"Jack, you are crude, crass, and obscene," Bridgette scoffed, remaining still as an anchor embedded in the sandy ocean floor.

"I anticipate hearing that constantly, too," Jack added before waving an elf over and placing an order for cocoa. Clarabella tried to hide a giggle behind her wrist at his jest before placing an order for herself.

Jack surveyed her closely. "I thought you said you didn't like cocoa?"

Wagging a finger, the sprite replied, "I said it was too sweet and thick and that it was different. But… I might as well acquire a taste for it. After all, it's what all the locals are drinking."

"True, true." He shifted in his seat slightly. The elf returned with their drinks, setting them down gently on the table before twirling and walking away.

Clarabella brushed her skirt along the underside of her legs as she sat down and reached for her cocoa. "Bridgette, won't you join us? I'd love to get to know a fellow seasonal herald nymph." She raised the mug to her lips.

"No," she replied matter-of-factly as she turned to Jack. "Jack, we're not supposed to do this. Remember what Mother Nature said? We can't meet with them, or else she'll think we're the ones in on the power struggle. Not that I'm saying you're not, or anything, but…"

"Ooh, that was cold, Bridgette." Jack laid a hand over his heart and quipped, "Are you sure _you're_ not the winter sprite?"

Clarabella swallowed a mouthful of sweetness to change subjects. "Actually, she said we couldn't be _alone_ with each other. There are plenty of elves here. Hence, we are not alone." The blonde grinned smugly at her logic before tipping the rim to her lips again.

"I like the way you think, Clara," Jack drawled low, drawing his eyes down and up her form.

Bridgette glanced at the door of the café. The nymph had a point. Besides, it was bad enough that they were being forced to marry someone they didn't want to; did they really have the power to tell them who they couldn't associate with?

"Besides," the blonde continued, "they can't go around accusing all four of us of being in on it, can they? They know that it's only one of us, so…"

Bridgette hesitated only a moment more before slowly lowering herself into the seat between the winter and autumn sprites, pulling up another chair beside her to rest her feet on so she could recline. At any rate, she had been working as a seasonal nymph for long enough to have proven her loyalty to Mother Nature.

"Bridgette has a point," Doyle said in a quiet tone. Clarabella turned to face him, and her nose nearly smashed into his, his face was so close to hers. She immediately pulled back to protect her personal space, and Doyle glanced once at Jack, who was enjoying his cocoa.

Returning his gaze to hers once more, he whispered into the shell of her ear, "I saw you go after him yesterday. I…" He swallowed and managed to breathe, "I don't trust him. Did you see the way they all looked at him at the council meeting when the boundary struggle was mentioned? He's obviously up to no good. You… You shouldn't be hanging around him. Besides," his long fingers curved gently around her chin to pull her face to him in what she believed he thought was a dramatically romantic gesture, "you and I are betrothed. I… I-I don't like you running around after other men."

Clarabella's nose wrinkled; it was _definitely_ not like that.

Doyle's thick eyebrows furrowed. "Why _did_ you follow after him, anyway?"

Glancing quickly at Jack, who was nursing his drink along, she dropped her voice and murmured to the autumn sprite, "It's nothing, just… my season comes after Jack's, so I see his work all the time. I really like it, and just wanted to meet him. I was just hoping that he'd agree to give me a few pointers on how to use seasonal magic; I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet."

Jack's sensitive sprite ears caught every whispered word from the two, who were half-turned away from the table in a secretive huddle. So she was just flattering him to get better control over her powers, eh? Well, well, well, he had to hand it to the nymph: she wasn't as naïve as he pegged her to be.

And Jack Frost was never wrong.

"Besides, he's Old Man Winter; what else would I be meeting with him for?"

Jack's cocoa caught in his throat. He coughed loudly, effectively drawing the couple apart and turning them back to the table.

He patted his mouth with a light blue handkerchief he'd pulled from the breast pocket of his jacket. Finally gaining control of his esophagus, he turned to the equinox sprites and flashed them a brilliant smile.

"So," he began, his voice too chipper to be genuine, "what did you two do before you were given these jobs, hmm?" His eyes blinked several times expectantly.

Clarabella and Doyle stared at Jack for a moment, trying to register this shift in conversation. Bridgette smirked in distained amusement at her betrothed.

"Tact. You. Look into it." Her voice dropped to mimic the sharp, clipped tone Jack usually spoke to her in.

Jack didn't even pause. "Three words, _Bridgette_." He turned on her and mocked, ticking each phrase off on his fingers, "Winter. Sprite." He squinted his face in an exaggerated version of her. "_Duh_."

Clarabella laughed at the humorous display and clapped her hands as if the solstice sprites were performing. "Oh, you two," she declared, gesturing at the glaring sprites, "make such a cute couple! Honestly! You're already quarrelling as though you're an old married couple."

"_Old?_" Bridgette and Jack spoke in unison, spinning to face Clarabella simultaneously.

"I, uh…" Doyle began, dropping his head back to gaze at the ceiling. "I painted the leaves."

Silence fell on the three other sprites, pausing the words in their throats. They turned to stare bemusedly at him, while he continued to look up.

Jack was the first to speak. "Uh… _Huh?_"

Doyle lowered his eyes to rest on his. "My job. Before this. I painted the leaves. You know, when they were changing colors for the season. I painted the leaves." He turned to Clarabella. "And you?"

The nymph's lime green eyes fluttered at being thrust into the spotlight so unexpectedly. "Oh, me?" She recovered after only a moment. Tittering her tongue, she gave a carefree flip of her hand before raising her mug to her lips. After finishing the rest of her hot chocolate, she responded, "It's funny you should mention it—I painted the flowers."

"Did you really?" Doyle shifted in his seat to get a better look at her, a warm grin touching his eyes.

"Yes, actually, I did." Clarabella threw a brief smile down her shoulder at him while sliding the mug back and forth between her hands.

"I looked very different before this job; I wonder if you did?" He pulled a leg up under himself and turned to face her entirely. "I had light brown hair, and dark brown eyes. And I was a bit shorter than I am now. I looked good back then, but there's just no comparison; I think I look even better now, if I do say so, myself." He chuckled awkwardly and elbowed Clarabella playfully. "You must have looked different prior to the job, right? I would have definitely remembered you if I had seen you before." Doyle's eyes bore into her profile in a way Jack assumed was meant to be affectionate, but fell shorter than an elf and practically oozed cheese.

Oh, this young sprite had much to learn about the art of seduction.

"As would I." Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, as if showing Doyle how to properly execute The Gaze.

"What the scorching sun am I? Stomped grapes?" Bridgette asked from her reclined position, arms folded across her chest.

"Bridgette, you're raisins, not grapes." Bridgette glared hotly at the winter sprite's sharp comment, but remained still in her seat.

"I was, you know… pretty much…" She swept an arm down her body. "Just, you know…" She popped a finger into her mouth to caress a drop of the sweet liquid away. "Different."

Doyle's smile froze on his face, waiting for her to continue. After several long moments passed without the nymph making an attempt to expand on her first comment, he asked, "Well, what did you look like? Hair? Eyes?"

"Yes, I had both of those." Clarabella replied, her green gaze fixed on the empty mug she twirled between her palms.

"Let's start with this: What color was your hair?" Jack tried, gesturing to her.

"Oh, it was, you know… One of those… One of those colors, you know? Some people have blonde hair, others brunette, and others auburn or black… And there's you, who has this really interesting whitish-bluish color—how in the world did your hair get to be that color?" Clarabella leaned her crossed arms on the table, narrowing her eyes to emphasize her inquiry.

Bridgette blinked. "For someone who worked so closely with color as a minor nymph, Clarabella, you do seem to have an awfully difficult time remembering the color of your hair. Or, for that matter, _any_ details of what you looked like before becoming the spring nymph."

The summer nymph's piercing gaze suspended Clarabella's, and for a moment, the two made a silent exchange of messages with their eyes.

The moment quickly passed, as the blonde chuckled quietly. "Well, it has been a while since I looked the way I did. Sometimes, it's better to let the petals fall from the rose in order for a new one to grow in its place."

Quiet descended to the table. Jack's hot cocoa would cool before anyone spoke up again.

**Author's Note:** I would just like to say that the tea recipe that Clarabella spoke of before the chapter began is completely made up. I know nothing about tea, so I just researched it a little and decided to use those ingredients. I have no idea what would happen if those ingredients were mixed together, so I don't really recommend making it. :P

_Questions to the Readers:_ What do you think of all the sprites? How do you like their interaction? What did you think of this chapter? What do you anticipate happening in future chapters?

_Trivia Question:_ What did Doyle do that upset Clarabella? (Remember that if you want me to respond to your review in my author's note, you must at least attempt to answer this question.)

_Questions to the Characters:_ Remember that I am accepting questions to the characters (rated T or lower, please, no exceptions), which will be answered in the author's note of the next chapter.


	3. And Seem a Saint When Most I Play the De

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** I would like to thank all my readers for reading this fanfiction, but I would like to extend special thanks to my reviewers, who take the time to leave feedback. As an aspiring writer, I am always _always_ **always** open to constructive criticism. I would love to hear from each and every one of my readers, so please don't hesitate! Just click that little button at the bottom of the page and leave a review! :)

Also, I just would like to point out that I am on_** DeviantArt**_ under the penname _**EclipseEterna**_l. I would _love_ to open a dialogue with my fans there, so if you're on DA, please don't hesitate to message me on there! Furthermore, my friend on DA, under the name _**TrekkieCSI**_, has created four beautiful computer backgrounds that are _Why it Snows in Spring_-themed. She's under my "Watchers" list in my profile and I've favorited her work, so if you're interested in fanart for this fanfic, go there. If anyone else would like to make fanart for _Why it Snows in Spring_, simply ask me on DA. I'd love to hear about it. Thanks!

_Winners of the Trivia Question: _The answer to the trivia question in chapter two is that Doyle brought Clarabella flowers, the act of cutting (and therefore killing) them upsets her because she considers it a violent death for them and an insult to her work. ForeverACharmedOne (I'm so happy that you enjoyed the last chapter; and I hope you enjoy this one, as well! I'm glad that you trust me with this story, and I hope you come to like it even more as it develops. I'm ecstatic that you like Clarabella, now. To be honest, I really do enjoy writing her character [and Jack's, of course ;)], and I'm anxiously looking forward to progressing her character development as the plot unfolds. lol I'm glad you enjoyed "The Gaze." It's been great talking to you on DA. Looking forward to your constructive feedback, as always! Please keep reading and reviewing! :D), Overrated Perfection (I'm so glad you're reading this fanfic even if you've never seen the movies before [_The Santa Clause _Trilogy is a set of movies, by the way, not books. Santa Claus is portrayed by Tim Allen, and Jack Frost is portrayed by Martin Short. I highly recommend watching them. :D]. I'm glad you enjoy the characters' interactions. I am looking forward to their character developments as the plot unfolds. I hope this chapter makes Jack out to be more of the "bad boy" you were looking for. Also, thanks for your feedback to all my questions; I'm happy to know my readers enjoy them. I look forward to your next review! Please keep reading and reviewing!), and Giana (Congratulations on winning the "Questions to the Characters"! Great question. :) Out of curiosity, are you also gianagi3, who reviewed chapter one? My apologies if you're not, but the pennames are very similar, so I'm just wondering. :) I'm so happy to read that you love the fanfic! I enjoy your reviews, and look forward to reading about what you think of chapter three. Please keep reading and reviewing!).

_Question to the Characters:_ And the winner is… Giana! Enjoy!

Jack raised the cup of cocoa to his lips as he read the ice tablet that had been mailed to him that morning.

As his eyes glanced over the question carved into the block of ice the first time, he chuckled. Fans. So amusing. So inquisitive. So curious about everything he, Jack Frost, did and thought.

While his lips drew more cocoa from the mug, the full question registered in his mind, and his drink halted in his throat.

Jack sputtered and coughed until he was able to rasp, "'How do I get my hair so… _cute_ and perfect in the morning?'" He squinted and at the symbols following the question. "Colon, right parenthesis?" He blinked once and muttered, "Humans these days: always setting out to abuse grammar in every way possible."

Grinning so that the dimples in his cheeks sunk, Jack began, "Why, hello Giana. If I may, allow me to correct you on just one itty-bitty point you've raised in your mail to me: my hair—and, furthermore, I as a whole—is not 'cute.'" Jack raised his hands to make air quotes, and his face scrunched in with distaste for the word before smoothly returning to his previous smirk. "I am exceptionally masculine and sprite-ish, for that is what I am. But not 'cute.'" More air quotes.

"However, you were right on the snowflakes when you said my hair—and, while I'm at it, the rest of me—is 'perfect'. Well, Giana, thank you for noticing!" Running a hand lightly over his hair, he explained, "You see, Gi—do you mind if I call you Gi?—my hair is not naturally this icicle straight. It's actually… _curly_. Because that would be 'cute,' I, of course, slick it back with a little bit of gel (which also straightens my hair nicely, by the way). But not too much—no, this is key." Jack pointed his index finger skyward at this point. "Nymphs, I have found, are not at all fond of hair that resembles cement in texture. They rather enjoy soft hair they can run their fingers through. And I rather enjoy nymphs. So, that is way my hair is the way it is: gel to straighten it, and only a little bit to attract nymphs."

Raising his cocoa mug in toast, he finished, "Thanks for the question, Gi."

_**Also, I would like to thank**_ **trekkie101**, a good friend of mine who has been reading and supporting this fanfiction since I had the idea for it several months ago. She has been there every step of the way: from supplying the chapter titles, to allowing me to bounce ideas off of her, to making sure my writing is polished. She has also enabled the existence of multiple _Why it Snows in Spring _weekend-long fangirly nerd-a-thons. Thank you lots!

_**On a more serious note:**_ I would like to dedicate this chapter to the fabulously talented Martin Short, who sadly lost his wife of thirty years suddenly this past Saturday, August 21st. May Nancy Dolman rest in peace, and may Martin remain strong during this difficult time. My thoughts and sincerest condolences are with the Short family.

**Publish Date:** Wednesday, August 25, 2010.

_**Why it Snows in Spring**_

Chapter Three: And Seem a Saint When Most I Play the Devil

Where could that nymph be?

Jack had already knocked on the door to Clara's suite, popped his head into the Elfsburg café, and checked the toy factory. Although Clara had never mentioned a desire to visit the latter, he figured he may as well give it a try, considering it was the main attraction at the North Pole.

He was just on his way to regroup with a cup of cocoa when a train of elves carrying potted mistletoe intercepted him, happily chattering about their gifts from the spring nymph.

Jack arched an eyebrow, interest piqued. He swiveled his head to the direction the elves were walking from, and found the Elfsburg Spa.

Now that he figured out where she was, it really had been quite obvious all along.

Jack approached the building and leaned in the doorway, surveying the dimly lit, golden interior. When his eyes caught those of the receptionist, he smiled wide.

"Do you have an appointment, Mr. Frost?" The little red-headed elf asked, hands already fluttering through the large binder on her desk.

"No, no." Jack strolled to the side of the main desk, hand resting on the doorknob of the door leading to the rest of the spa. "I'm only visiting. Miss Bloom is in, yes?"

The elf's features softened. "Oh, I'm sorry, but she's requested absolutely no interruptions in her session for today." Dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, "She seemed very… uptight when she booked her appointment with us yesterday."

Jack's icicle-encrusted eyebrow arched. "I see." After the long silence that had followed Clarabella's vague response to Bridgette's comment the day before about her memory, the young nymph had suggested that she and Doyle go elsewhere, and the couple left the café. Could something had gone wrong during her date with Doyle?

"Well… she asked me to deliver this to her," he lied smoothly. Jack's hand rose to indicate the single narcissus flower, which was a shade of blue darker than his hair. "So, I'll just be on my way." He grinned at the elf and turned the doorknob.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frost, but Clarabella insisted that her visit to the spa remain private." The elf stood her ground at the desk, but Jack's keen eye caught slight movement as she worried the inside of her lip between her teeth.

She could be persuaded.

A charming smile sprouted across Jack's face, cloaking his features in false warmth.

"If I may, Miss…?"

"Averie."

"Miss Averie, if I may: Clara asked me to go into her suite and retrieve this flower for her because… why, because it has magical healing properties." He raised the flower to show the elf.

Averie blinked confusedly. "But she's been here in the spa the whole time—how could she have asked you?"

Jack's smile spread to his eyes as he tapped his temple. "Sprite telepathy." _Oh, please_.

Averie's brown eyes widened in comprehension. "Ohhh. That makes sense." She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Well, I guess since she asked you to bring it to her, it would be alright…" Averie stroked the rim of the pot that held the sprouting mistletoe Clarabella had created for her. "Go on in, Mr. Frost. She's in the room at the end of the hallway."

Jack bowed his head. "Thank you." He opened the door and walked down the cream-colored corridor lined with candles.

As he reached the end of the hallway, he could hear a familiar voice cooing lightly between gasps and purrs, "Mm… Down a little more… More pressure… _Perfeeeeeect_."

Jack silently cracked the door open, and arched an intrigued eyebrow at the sight before him. In middle of the room lay Clarabella, her head turned away from Jack, with only flickering candlelight casting illumination and shadows across her exposed back as the elf therapist kneaded the base of her spine. Jack's eager eyes swept slowly down the delectable curve of the nymph's back, delighting in the dip that disappeared beneath the beige towel. Her lightly bronzed skin shimmered faintly in the dull candlelight, as if she had been massaged with glittery oil.

The winter sprite swallowed as he felt his temperature rise several degrees.

There were going to be floods in Alaska tonight.

Jack rapped his knuckle against the door. "Delivery for Miss Bloom."

Clarabella turned her head to face the visitor, and gave a tranquil smile. "Jack, hi. What are you doing here?"

Clarabella's eyes were… _pink_. Hadn't they been green only yesterday? As she lifted her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Jack found that her peekaboo highlights and nails were also the same vibrant hue as her eyes—the brightest color in the room.

Jack blinked in surprise. "Clara… You're _pink_."

The nymph's eyes narrowed into tiny smirks, amused at his confusion. "Yeah."

He waited several moments for a response before continuing, "But… yesterday you were _green_."

The tips of Clarabella's pointy ears wriggled. "Yeah."

Jack's eyebrows lifted. "Explanation?"

Clarabella giggled and started as the elf made a long stroke up her back to her shoulders. "Ooh, careful; I'm ticklish," she murmured languidly, as if caught in a daydream. "Well, Jack, since my season goes from cold to warm, my appearance and attire change from day to day—because my season is constantly changing." She shifted slightly where she lay. "However, because I'm now out of season, the color changes reflect my moods. Right now, I'm happy and content, hence the pink. Yesterday and the day before, I was excited to be visiting the North Pole, hence the green."

Jack raised his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "Well, you wear both colors extremely well," he drawled as one corner of his lips drew upward.

The nymph's tongue wriggled between her teeth at the compliment. "Mm. I know. So, what brings you here? I'm surprised you made it back here; I told Averie that I wanted a private session. Not that I mind having you visit—I enjoy our conversations, Jack." The sprite smiled warmly up at him.

Jack responded with a smooth grin and an enigmatic, "Oh, I have my ways." He smoothed his free hand over his spiked hair. "I'm a sprite of many talents, and persuasion is just one of them." He watched her pink eyes narrow in delight before continuing, "I have a delivery for you." He approached her and presented the narcissus flower with a flourish.

Clarabella's expression hardened from melted tranquility to barely-suppressed rage. She instantly recoiled before thinking better of it and grabbing the flower from Jack's hand.

"I can't believe it, Jack!" She tenderly cupped the bloom of the flower and gazed helplessly at it.

Jack's eyebrows arched in bewilderment. He took a moment to compose his thoughts, which had been shattered by the nymph's shocking exclamation, and finally said, "Well… See, I was just—"

"I can't _believe_ Doyle made you deliver this!" She fumed, gesturing furiously at the plant. "As if destroying my precious flowers yesterday weren't bad enough, he has to send me more today, too?" Clarabella growled in frustration, and immediately winced as her shoulder muscles seized.

"Relax!" The masseuse requested, pulling away from Clarabella's shoulders. "I almost had all the knots worked out—you just made them all come back!" The elf flipped her long, pale blonde braid over her shoulder and gently touched the pinked flesh.

Clarabella mewled in pain. "Oh, Jack, he hurt my poor flowers! And, seriously, why can't he just be a sprite and come to me himself? He needs to grow a pair of leaves and face me." Clarabella continued muttering incoherently into the headrest as the elf tipped her face down to expose her shoulders more.

"Right," Jack scrambled to agree, sticking to his scheme. "Clara, you are absolutely right." He knelt so he was eyelevel with the top of her head. He caught her jaw with his fingers and tilted her head up so she could look into his blue, blue eyes, glistening with false sincerity.

"Clara, I told him exactly that—that he should not be destroying your beautiful creations. I mean, I know _I_ would be offended if someone gave me a clump of snow as a present. I can only imagine how you feel," he tsked, as Clarabella's eyes rounded in the knowledge that someone understood her.

Jack drew his lips in in sympathetically and continued in a soothing, low voice, "I would think that it's only worse for you; Doyle is killing living things. That, Clara, is just cruel." He lightly touched her chin, and Clarabella comforted in the cold of his fingertips.

Clarabella's eyebrows arched, upset. "I know, right? It just… It bothers me that he doesn't seem to show my work any kind of respect. I mean, if he keeps this up, he'll have killed, like, hundreds of flowers by the time we get married—Ow, ow, _ow!_ Hope!" Clarabella complained, craning her neck to gaze up at the elf. "Hope, that hurts!"

Hope retracted her hands. "Your muscles knotted so quickly that they've swollen." Rubbing a hand across her forehead to sweep away the strands of hair that escaped her braid, she crossed the room to a counter, looking into the metal tin there. "And we used the last of the cold rocks on you already."

"Allergies," Clarabella cursed. With a resigned sigh, she rubbed her temples and decided, "Alright, I guess that ends our session for today. Would you mind getting a glass of lukewarm water for me to put my flower in?" Gazing sadly at the dying narcissus, she added quietly, "At least it will be able to die in peace; there's nothing I can do for it now."

"Of course." Hope picked up the potted mistletoe the spring sprite had given her. "I need to water my new plant, anyway." She smiled brightly at Clarabella before leaving the room, leaving the door open only a crack.

Clarabella whimpered at the pain in her shoulders, reaching a hand up to massage the tender, heated flesh.

"Allow me," Jack offered, rising to his feet and removing his jacket. He rolled up his sleeves and moved behind her.

Clarabella turned her head so she could see him in her peripheral vision. "Jack?"

The sprite gently moved the hair to one side of the nymph's long neck to expose the curve of her sleek shoulders. Clarabella carefully lowered her cheek onto the headrest, giving Jack more room.

She watched as he inhaled deeply and his face faded to the same blue as his eyes. Had she not been in as much discomfort as she was, she would have found the color change humorous.

He exhaled, and an icy cloud descended to her warm flesh, cooling her swollen muscles. The light frost melted instantly against her warm skin, and his face returned to its normal pale shade before he lowered his hands onto her shoulders.

Her flesh was soft and pliant in his hands, and goosebumps instantly rippled across her back. He grinned; a thrill of pleasure sparked through him.

The spring nymph stilled when she felt his strong hands clasp her shoulders. His grip was firm, but gentle, yet she could tell he was strong from the rough calluses that padded his fingertips.

The swelling began to prickle with numbness. Clarabella's eyes fluttered shut in blissful relief. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, shoulder blades heaving rapidly. Her plump lower lip slid between her teeth as her muscles released their pain.

"Mm…" she hummed, slitting her eyes lazily and glancing at him out of the corner.

His icy gaze bore into her flushed face, unwavering and intense. Her highlights and nails began shifting from tulip pink to marigold orange as blush crept across her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears.

The corner of Jack's mouth twitched upward in triumph. Even at his age, he still had it; he could still make young nymphs melt.

The pads of his chilly fingertips dug into her sore muscles and held them, soothing the ache from her body.

The nymph's arms flopped uselessly from the massage table as her bones wilted away to nothing.

The narcissus flower struck the ground. Clarabella didn't notice.

Drawing in a small breath, she opened her eyes to gaze over her shoulder at him. Her eyes, too, had become orange.

Orange met blue, and as his grip on her muscles shifted slightly, she mewled, "_Jack_."

Caution to skiers on the Alps: the snow has melted to slush; avalanches are expected.

.x:X:x.

"So," Jack began as he stepped out from his suite with two mugs of cocoa in his hands, "tell me about your date with the ever so… _amusing_ Doyle."

Clarabella perched at the end of the clear chair made from crystal-like glass. The porch at the front of the winter sprite's suite was customized with icy furniture that created rainbows in the bright sun's light.

The spring nymph sat her sunglasses on the top of her head and reached for a mug of cocoa. "Oh, Jack, it was terrible! Doyle just…" She scoffed, and mad e an exasperated gesture in the air. "I'm convinced Doyle doesn't have a backbone. At all." Setting the mug down, she ticked her grievances off on her fingers. "He asked me, like, fifty times where I wanted to go for the rest of the day. Seriously, just pick a spot and let's go, you know? He was the one who asked me out in the first place!

"Second, he has these really annoying habits. Do you remember yesterday how he was just so… _awkward_? Well, it only got worse afterward; he practically made out with my hand every time he wanted to be romantic, he laughed too loud and too hard at my stories and jokes, and he's just… just awkward in general." She muttered into the mug, "I mean, I figure he hasn't been on too many dates in his life, but still…"

"Well, not everyone can be as experienced as you when it comes to relationships, Clara," Jack flirted before sipping his cocoa.

Clarabella smirked into her drink before pulling away and declaring in astonishment, "Jack, this is delicious! What did you put in it?"

Jack grinned boyishly. "You like it? It's my own secret recipe."

"I _love_ mint!" The nymph tipped back the cocoa once again. Pulling away, she caught an extra drop on her top lip with her tongue. Jack didn't even conceal his eyes as they followed the tantalizing movement. "Mm, you'll have to give me the recipe."

"Well, as I said, it's my secret recipe. And I don't give it to just _anyone_."

Clarabella batted her thick eyelashes and gazed slyly at the winter sprite. "_Pleeeeease?_" She leaned slowly over the table.

Jack teasingly paused for several moments, acting as if he were thinking hard about it. He finally grinned and decided, "Well, why not? What can I say? Even _Old Man Winter_ has a soft spot for beautiful nymphs." His eyebrows raised pointedly at the nickname Clarabella had previously appointed him.

The nymph's pink eyes widened. "You… You _heard _that?"

Her response was an eyebrow arch as he leaned onto the table. "Yes. I did. As, to use your phrase, _'old'_ as I am, my hearing is, thankfully, as good as ever."

His amused statement was followed by silence, and before long, Jack spoke again, "Well? Don't you have anything to say about that?"

Clarabella's face remained taut with surprise. Then, it suddenly shifted into a shy grin as she twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. With an impish giggle, she finally said, "Oops. Sorry."

Jack's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You're… _sorry_?"

"Yeah. Sorry you heard it. I was just, you know…" Clarabella lowered her eyes to the table in a way Jack thought was too planned out and cute to be genuine, "trying to make Doyle understand that he doesn't have anything to worry about. Because, let's be honest, the age difference is a bit much, don't you think?"

Jack forced an indifferent smirk. He had this nymph practically panting for him not even an hour before; he could certainly overcome any age barrier she erected between them. Tilting his head curiously, he asked smoothly, "I know it is quite improper to ask a nymph her age… but would you _mind_ enlightening me on the age difference between us?"

Clarabella's nose scrunched in delight. "Well… I'm certainly not ashamed of my age." Leaning toward him on her elbows, she said low, as if in secret, "I'm not even a thousand years old yet."

The crow's feet around Jack's eyes deepened as he grinned wide. "_Really?_" He, himself, was several million years old. His mouth almost watered at the thought. Almost. It was not uncommon for pretty, young nymphs to fall for him, just as it was not uncommon for him to partake in manifestations of their interest in him.

However, even Jack Frost had to admit: this nymph really melted his ice.

"Anyway, for the record," she tilted her head to look at him slyly, "even if I was butter-cupping you up a little, I really did mean what I said: your work is beautiful." Batting her thick eyelashes, she placed her hand on his lightly muscled arm and gently squeezed. "I would _love_ to learn more about seasonal magic from you."

It suddenly struck Jack: Clarabella knew exactly what she was doing! This nymph was playing him just as much as he was her! But what she didn't know was that by him playing along and spending time with her to practice magic, he was also able to charm her into becoming his Mrs. Claus.

A satisfied thrill chased down Jack's spine at the thought that this beautiful nymph would not only fall for his charms, but that he would be victorious over a sprite who was almost as manipulative as he was.

She, Clarabella Bloom, would be Jack's greatest triumph.

The deceptively boyish dimples in Jack's cheeks deepened with a smirk as he closed his cold hand over hers.

"Oh, Clara, even though I just know that you're 'butter-cupping' me up yet again," he shook a playful finger at her as her eyes grinned at being caught, "what can I say? You're quite a convincing nymph."

He tugged on her arm and, in one smooth stroke while Clarabella squealed, her chair was beside his. "And I think what I said the other day is worth repeating." Jack brought her hand to his lips and pecked a fingertip. "You really are too good for my ego."

His lips met her knuckle, and goose bumps instantly rippled a path up her arm. The wide smile on her face slackened slowly, and a sliver of anticipation tugged at her eyes. Jack planted a kiss on her wrist, waiting for it to happen.

He watched with a surge of satisfaction as her chest heaved slowly. Nymphs. They'd tease a sprite to within an inch of his life, but upon its reciprocation, they'd retreat. Nymphs were the reason the phrase 'All talk and no action' existed in the first place.

Jack Frost could play this game. In fact, he was looking forward to it.

But he needed it to happen first.

He turned her arm and revealed the delicate, pale flesh of the underside of her wrist. Remembering that a previous fling had had a soft spot there, he locked his blue eyes on her pink ones and slowly lowered his mouth to her wrist. The kiss lasted several long moments, and ended only after the tip of his tongue swept once along her delicate skin.

Finally, it happened.

Jack loved when he was right.

Her hair, eyes, and nails slowly shifted to the light orange of the early-morning sun. Her eyelashes trembled, and she licked her lower lip.

Orange would officially be Jack's favorite color until he guaranteed his position as Santa Claus forever. He would make sure she turned orange every single day before then.

**Author's Note:** _Questions to the Readers: _What does everyone think of this chapter? What do you think about Jack's revelation of Clarabella's intentions? Any comments on their developing relationship? Any constructive feedback you'd like to give? Please be sure to leave a review! :D

_Trivia Question:_ How old is Clarabella?

Don't forget that you can ask the characters questions in your reviews! :)


	4. But Thus His Simple Truth Must Be Abused

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** Yet again, my apologies for the waiting time between updates. At least it wasn't as long as it has been in the past, right? However, life really has been in the way of my writing lately, especially since my Muse seems to be… one might say _avoiding_ me as of late…

That, and, unfortunately, for the past several days, I've been feeling a bit down about a couple things that have happened recently, so obviously that hasn't been helping any.

Of course, writing this story always lifts my spirits somewhat, and it has been a joy to hear from those who take the time to read and review (especially those on DA who I message with—you rock!).

_Trivia Question_: The answer I was going for was: Clarabella is not even one-thousand years old (which is particularly young for a nymph—roughly twenty-two in human years). And the winners are: Trekkie101 (I'm glad to read that you enjoyed the last chapter. I'm happy you find the elves "well-written." Please keep reading and reviewing!), ForeverACharmedOne (I'm so glad that you're "loving this story more and more"! I really appreciate it! :) Thank you so much for commenting on the humor—I've never really written anything considered humorous before this, so I'm still learning as I go along. Now I know I'm getting it right! :D Ahhh, I'm thrilled that you're enjoying Jack and Clarabella's relationship! I'm definitely enjoying writing it! I look forward to hearing more from you in your next review!), and Possibly Impossible (Before I start replying to your reviews, I just want to let you know that I will definitely start reading your fanfiction soon; like I said in the Author's Note, life is just in the way of my writing and that also crosses over into my pleasure reading. I would love to read your fanfic and answer the questions you raised in your DA message to me. :) Onto your review: Ooh, well… This fanfic _is_ rated T, and it's definitely not being pushed any higher, so there's no fear of _that _happening. :) You and Jack both—he is definitely focused on seeing more orange, too. I look forward to your next review!).

_Question to the Characters:_ And the winner is… all three submitters! Since everyone asked Jack about his experiences with massages, I decided to combine all three questions into one and see what happened. Congratulations, all, and enjoy!

The elf carrying a bag labeled "Letters to Santa" handed the icy tablet to Jack, who practically slammed the door in his face.

"_More_ fanmail? I'm not surprised, of course, but I'm definitely pleased… _Ooh!_" He read the questions regarding his experiences regarding massaging, and perched on the edge of a chair in his sitting room to think. A grin quickly bloomed on his face, and his eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Well, now, ladies, if you really want to know about my experiences on this subject, I am an open book!" He gestured widely before lowering his voice to a whisper.

"You know, the thing about nymphs is… they're hedonists by nature: anything that tastes good, feels good, sounds good—whatever—is something they want." He chuckled low. "Massages feel nice, do they not? Which is exactly why they just _love_ them, especially after a long, hard day at work. And, as I replied to my last fanmail, I just _love_ nymphs, so it really all works out."

Jack scanned the tablet again quickly. "Stories and experiences? My, we're getting very specific with our inquiries, aren't we? But I've never refused a fan's question, and I don't intend on starting now. Well, I daresay I'm so good at giving massages because I've done it for quite some time now, but a specific story to share with you…"

Jack snapped his fingers. "I've just the one: Bridgette and I attended college together—yes, sprites go to college, too—and, well… she was a nerd. Always at the library studying, that sort of thing. Well, I remember her then-boyfriend would give her shoulder massages to help her deal with all the stress. One day, he was running late and, quite frankly, back then she was more attractive than she is now in her old age, and I quietly walked up behind her and gave her shoulders a massage. She didn't turn around to see I wasn't her boyfriend, so she just went along with it. I actually," he laughed sharply here, "I actually got pretty far down her back, too, before he showed up and blew my cover. She was soooo angry after that!" He slapped his knee and howled with laughter. As his laughs subsided, he admitted with an amused sigh, "Yeah. Yeah, he definitely dumped her after that. Serves her right, too, allowing another sprite to do that." He feigned tsks, and his gaze gained a faraway look.

"And the most recent one was Clara…" He licked his lower lip as his eyes darkened. "Even at my age, I still have it." Jack chuckled and informed his fans, "That nymph's completely head-over-heels for me, you know. Me, 'Old Man Winter,' which she definitely only said to make it _seem_ as if she didn't like me." Jack smirked at his declaration. He chuckled once and said, "They all fall for Jack Frost in the end."

A light knock sounded at the door, and he immediately jumped up. Quickly placing the ice tablet on the kitchen counter, he said, "That must be her now. Gotta go; until next time!"

**Publish Date:** Saturday, September 18, 2010.

_**Why it Snows in Spring**_

Chapter Four: But Thus His Simple Truth Must Be Abused By Silken, Sly, Insinuating Jacks?

"Clara!" Jack exclaimed dramatically as he opened the door to find the spring nymph on his doormat, covered in the snow that fluttered from the sky. "I've been expecting you." He lightly grasped her hand and dropped a kiss on it. Pulling her gently to him, he began guiding her into his suite. "Welcome to my humble abode. Are there any refreshments I can fetch you before we get started?"

"No, Jack… Wait." Clarabella wouldn't budge beyond the threshold.

Jack cocked his head at his thwarted charm. "Clara…?"

Clarabella bowed her face—which Jack now realized was flushed in what seemed to be embarrassment.

Jack stepped up to her, gently resting chilly fingertips on her arm and lightly beneath her chin.

"What is it?"

Raising her deep, gloomy turquoise eyes up to meet his, she whispered shakily, "We can't… meet anymore…" She swallowed and wiped her nose.

"It's Mother Nature."

.x:X:x.

"_Just a rain drop!" Clarabella chirped as she pushed a strand of hair fluttering in her personal spring breeze behind her ear. Smoothing out her dress, she skipped quickly to the door of her suite, pulling it open._

"_Mother Nature." Clarabella's normally soprano-range voice sobered instantly with one look from the stern spirit. "I wasn't expecting you."_

"_Clarabella." Mother Nature spoke gravely, stepping into the suite, and towering over the nymph's diminutive figure. Mother Nature was a tall spirit to begin with, but she seemed to loom even higher above the blonde now. Clarabella stepped back nervously._

"_I specifically told the four of you not to meet—that you can only see the sprite of the season opposite yours. I've heard from the elves that you've been conversing with Jack Frost." Her voice contained the low rumbling of oncoming thunder. Normally earth-brown eyes became ominous gray depths with lightning flickering cautiously._

"_Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Mother Nature took a step closer to the nymph._

_Clarabella stared fearfully up into the eyes of her superior while her mind teemed with objections. One thing was for sure: she was not going to be using her looks to get out of this one._

_Finally finding her voice after a long moment, she cleared her throat and replied timidly, "A-Actually… with all due respect, you said we couldn't be alone with sprites heralding seasons preceding or following ours."_

"_Either way, you have been alone with Jack—I found out from the Elfsburg Spa that the elf masseuse was not in the room with you and Jack the entire time yesterday." Another step. The lightning in her eyes flickered brightly._

_Finding her courage, Clarabella held her ground. "Hope left us alone together, yes. But _she_ left us. We did not plan to be left alone. You must give us that, at least."_

_Mother Nature's fingers twitched once. Although what the nymph said was bold, her voice was calm and even, no hint of malice or sass._

"_Besides, I'm not even in on the whole seasonal boundary struggle—how can I be when I'm just managing my powers as it is?"_

"_I know you're not in on the struggle." Mother Nature's voice suddenly calmed to a light rain that followed a storm. "But I have a feeling Jack is. A very big mountain-sized feeling." She added with a roll of her eyes._

"_Why does everyone think he's in on it?" Clarabella, sensing this shift in conversation, cautiously stepped forward. "He seems… really nice."_

_Mother Nature fixed the blonde with a firm stare. "He _always_ seems that way… at first. He's only nice to those he wants things from, though. Besides, he's been eying Santa's position for this side of forever—it would make sense that he would want to take more control over others' seasons. He's always harping about his power and how much more responsibility he should have—this would be the perfect opportunity for a demonstration._

"_Now that I mention it…" Mother Nature planted her hands on her hips in thought. "There were… _floods_ in Alaska, of all places last night. And… And there were avalanches in the Alps. _And_ it was pretty warm out last night… for winter, at least…" She shook her head to bring her back to the present. "But, that's for me to think about another time…_

"_Anyway, I know you can't be in on it because…" Mother Nature calmed further and drew in a deep breath. "I was initially hoping to save this until you all got married, but… You each have one of these." She withdrew from her dress a ring made from a pearl marbled with blue veins._

"_This is Jack's. Each one is the key to its corresponding globe. When the key is placed into its globe, it can be activated to change the weather. I still want you all to go out into the world to do your jobs, but… for smaller things, I feel this is more convenient, especially if a sprite cannot, for whatever the reason, make it to work that day._

"_I was going to give them to the four of you on your wedding days, but… yours has been stolen."_

_Clarabella's eyes widened. "Stolen? By who?"_

_Mother Nature's hands spread out wide. "I wish I knew for sure. I've sent Bernard—Santa's number one elf—out to search for it and ask around, but… I, of course, have a theory as to who stole it…"_

_Jack._

_The unspoken name hung between them for a tense minute before Mother Nature continued quietly, a rumble of thunder in her voice once more, "So I need you to be careful, Clarabella. Stay away from Jack. Stay close to Doyle; he is the only one I can be sure is safe for you to be around. Do this for me?"_

Clarabella looked away from the sprite before her, rubbing her arm lightly. "Yeah… so… that's what happened."

Jack immediately mustered a hurt front. "You… You don't believe what Mother Nature said, do you?"

Without looking up at him, she shrugged her shoulders and looked down. She didn't want to speak poorly about her boss, especially so soon after her employment.

Jack's jaw set before he stepped closer to the nymph and tilted her chin up. "Come on, Clara, you don't actually believe that I'm capable of something like that, do you?"

Turquoise eyes met blue, and her fears instantly melted away. "No. No, I don't." She smiled lightly. Her hand rested on his bicep and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Jack."

"No trouble at all. I would believe whatever Mother Nature said, too, if I had just been elected to a seat on the Council." Grasping her hand, he lightly pulled. "Well? We have some magic to work, have we not?"

Still, Clarabella hesitated. Jack watched as her lip worried between her teeth and knew he could win her internal debate. "But… But she said we shouldn't meet anymore…"

"Hey, she doesn't have to know. It'll be our little secret." He tapped her nose once and declared more firmly, "Besides, who can say we're doing anything wrong? We're going to be practicing seasonal magic together—how is that bad?"

Clarabella's plump lip fell slowly from between her teeth, and Jack unveiled a devastating grin. "What do you say, Clara?"

The nymph gazed up at him for a long moment before a smile blossomed deliberately on her features. "Okay, Jack. You're right; we're just practicing magic… which is, if you think about it, helping us do our jobs."

"That's the spirit, Clara!" Jack encouraged, standing aside and allowing her into his suite.

He shut the door and followed her inside. "Please, make yourself at home!" He helped her pull her green jacket down her arms to hang on the coat rack.

When he returned, he allowed himself an appreciative gaze up the back of the spring nymph as she bent to read the ice tablet on his kitchen counter. The skirt on this dress bushed against her knees, not along the floor like usual, and it only trailed upwards as she leaned onto the counter. One corner of his lip turned up as the lightly-tanned flesh of her thighs were revealed to him inch by tantalizing inch.

And to think that would all be his once she became his Mrs. Claus.

His eyes rose around the green-and-pink clad curve of her hips, which quickly narrowed to her minute waist, emphasized by the ribbon tied tightly around her, and finally up to the skin of the very shoulders he had massaged only the day before.

He blinked once and tried to register what he saw there.

Well, this nymph was certainly full of surprises!

There, perching subtly on her left shoulder, sat a pink butterfly tattoo.

That certainly had not been there yesterday.

"What's this?" He asked, delighting in the shiver he elicited from her as he brushed a finger down the inked wings. The wings magically fluttered at his touch.

Regaining her composure, and trying to concentrate on her turquoise hair brightening to pink instead of orange, Clarabella replied, "Oh, that's my tattoo. One of four, actually."

"I didn't see any of them yesterday… And I definitely saw plenty of you," Jack teased the nymph, who blushed prettily in response.

"Yes, well… they have a tendency to wander. One day they're all in the same place, the next they're scattered throughout my body. Let's see." Clarabella craned her neck to see the pink butterfly. "That's the one for May." She pointed to a rainy blue one on her left wrist. "This one's for April." Her neck curved in front of him and, in the place where her neck joined her shoulder sat a sunny yellow butterfly. "And June." Her nose scrunched adorably in jest as she finished, "I have a green one for March, but I'll leave it to your imagination where that one is."

She giggled at him, teasing him. He loved nymphs. But he'd be sure to make her aware who she was teasing. "Well, I'd love to get acquainted with the March butterfly sometime."

He chuckled at his jest, watching her façade melt into one more curious, as if she didn't quite know how to proceed.

"How clever—the spring months, yes?"

Clarabella's playful features returned, and she grinned and bobbed her head. "Yes. One for every month I am in power."

Her hand danced behind her on the counter and brushed along the icy tablet. "Oh! I was looking at this before—I hope you don't mind." She turned toward it and asked him, "You get fanmail?"

"Of course, of course. Who _doesn't_ know about me?" Jack crossed the kitchen to pour two mugs of cocoa.

"Well, I don't think very many humans know about us nowadays with their meteorologists explaining the seasons and weather in such scientific terms." Clarabella pulled a face and stuck out her tongue as if she had tasted something foul.

"So… magic… Let's see what you've got, Miss Bloom." Jack changed the subject all-too-cheerfully, carrying the two mugs of cocoa and nodding at the corridor. The realization of the steep decline in his popularity within the last couple centuries was bad enough without the nymph discussing it.

He led her down the hallway, and Clarabella noted appreciatively that Jack actually kept his suite quite tidy. It was, quite frankly, the best bachelor pad she'd seen.

"You keep a very impressive suite, Jack," she complimented as he stood to one side of the door and waited for her to enter.

"Why, thank you for noticing!" Jack replied happily. He followed her into his workroom and shut the door. "I admit, I have quite a luxurious taste when it comes to my choices of of homes and furnishing, but—and I don't mean to brag—I have earned quite a fortune in my lifetime to sustain my preferences threefold."

Clarabella wandered through the room and stopped at the half-open door to Jack's bedroom. Like the rest of his suite, it had been elaborately furnished in various shades of blue and white, with crystal-like furniture. She briefly wondered if he lavishly decorated his suite to make himself look more powerful… sort of like what Mother Nature said before…

She shook her head quickly to snap back from her thoughts. "I was actually talking about how clean and neat you keep it. Most single sprites would keep homes that have laundry accumulating in all corners, dishes piling up, and filled garbage bags from floor to ceiling…"

He chuckled and walked to the other side of the desk in the middle of the room, setting her mug down and lifting his to his lips. "No, no; not for me. I went through a rather nasty faze of your aforementioned symptoms of bachelordom when I was fresh out of college, but I quickly learned how stifling it was to feel practically trapped by out-of-control chores that just kept piling up. Finally, I put a stop to it and haven't looked back since." A pull from his mug. "I quite like keeping control of my surroundings. Besides, I've found I really can't work if I am distracted by such things, although…" His gaze turned almost feral as it locked on her. "I'm finding my latest distraction to be quite… _inspiring_."

How could the stare of the winter sprite be so… smoldering? Clarabella felt her face heat up as she blushed again.

Jack didn't subject her to his stare for long, however, as he waved an arm over two ceramic pots packed with soil. "Well? Show me what you've got."

Clarabella took just a sip of the minty cocoaccino Jack had made for her before setting the mug down and proceeding to position her hands over the potted dirt. She shut her eyes and breathed slowly while lowering her hands, fingers sinking into the soft soil.

Although it could be quite messy, the feel of dirt made Clarabella feel at home, in a way. The way it nestled around her knuckles and drew power from her fingertips comforted her knowing she was about to breathe life into a new creation.

Clarabella's eyebrows furrowed, creasing in the middle. She forced warm pulses of energy—magic—down her arms, out the ends of her fingertips and through the soil.

She could feel when it happened—a little spark jolted her hands as the seedlings were conceived within the pots. Rapidly, the seedlings burst from the soil, darkening in color as they stretched up, up, up. Buds sprouted, then leaves, and then finally pink blossoms exploded, smiling up at the sprites.

"Perfect!" Clarabella boasted with an unabashed smile.

"Well, we'll have to see about that," Jack claimed with a smile, donning white fabric gloves.

Pulling a chair up to the desk, he stated, "I can't freeze your flowers through the gloves."

That explained how he was able to transport the narcissus flower to her yesterday, Clarabella realized suddenly, because it had covered with a plastic sleeve.

"Alright," he rasped to himself as he dug through a drawer of the desk with one hand. "Let's see what we've got here." He pulled out a small, crystalline device that reminded Clarabella of a jeweler's scope.

"I promise I'll be gentle with your hard work, Clara." Jack gently held the blossom of one plant open while he held the scope to his eye and examined it, twisting a knob to focus it. He repeated the action with the other flower, rubbing the tender petals.

"Well, you're right about one thing; they're both absolutely perfect—and exactly the same."

Clarabella grinned in triumph. "See? I told you!"

Jack sighed. "Uh… Clara…" He put the scope away. "I think we need to have a little chat. Nature, by definition, is not supposed to be 'perfect.'" He made air quotes. "That's part of its beauty, part of what makes it so inspiring to humans—they enjoy the diversity, complexity, and intricacy of all the components that make it what it is. Nature is so beautiful for its imperfections."

"But… but it's beautiful _because _it's perfect! With imperfections come ugliness, and with ugliness comes humiliation—I-I mean…" Her thick eyelashes quivered in rapid succession. "Uh… criticism. Yes, criticism."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed at her verbal blunder, but he didn't remark on it. "I'll let you in on a little something." He leaned forward in his chair and said in an intimately low voice, "For every million snowflakes I create, can you guess how many of them are perfect?"

Clarabella twirled a strand of hair in thought. "Uh… One-million?"

Jack shook his blue head. "One."

Clarabella's eyes widened. "Really? Why?"

"Well, I used to make them all perfect." Jack laced his fingers as he leaned forward onto the desk. "But I realized that humans didn't appreciate them because they expected all the snowflakes to be perfect all the time. So, I decided to make one perfect snowflake out of a million so that when a human does see a perfect snowflake, they take time to appreciate my hard work for what it really is." Jack smirked, but then sobered and held her gaze firmly. "I suggest you do the same."

He gently set the two potted plants on the ground in full view of the sun streaming in from the windows, and put two more pots of dirt on the desk.

"Now," he began slowly, pulling off his gloves finger by finger, "try again. Only this time," he stepped behind her and was just tall enough to hook his chin over her shoulder to look down into the pots, "focus on making your magic flow in uneven patterns."

He gathered her wrists in his hands and lightly dropped her hands into the soil. Clarabella felt his surprisingly firm torso press up against her back. "Like this." He placed his right hand on her shoulder and trickled his fingertips smoothly down her arm. The palm of his left hand trailed slow, lazy circles down her other arm.

Clarabella could feel her magic tingle and ebb to the different patterns Jack had created down her limbs. His cold flesh made goosebumps ripple along her arms. Her eyes shut for a brief moment as she inhaled his scent—the deep, subtle aroma of a silent snowy day mixed with the cocoaccino on his breath. She could feel her hair prickle as it began lightening from pink to a bright citrus orange at his close proximity…

"See? This helps with making even two plants of the same species look different." His eyes caught hers in the mirror opposite them, and he gave her a grin. "Now, in order to create imperfections, just feel your magic leaving you in random bursts."

His chin rested right against her pulse point, and she was certain he could feel her heart beat to the irregular tempo of her magic.

When he could feel she'd worked up a good enough rhythm and flow to her magic, he gently guided her hands down into the dirt.

As soon as her fingertips dug deeper, Clarabella gasped; two seedlings burst from the soil and began growing. Jack soon had the result he'd been working the nymph up to: one plant was shorter with multiple sapphire blooms, the other was taller and more narrow with one blue flower. The smaller plant's flowers had a couple petals missing, while the tall one had a bend in its stem.

They were both the same species.

Jack smirked in triumph as he felt her body twitch pleasantly with the aftershock of this new magic-expending technique. The nymph slumped heavily onto the desk and panted. She'd have to get used to this if she was going to start using this method of flower-creating!

"Alright there, Clara?" He asked, rubbing the small of her back and pulling a lock of hair behind her ear. He noticed while doing so that the innermost layer of her hair had turned an unmistakable orange.

Jack's face froze with arrogance, only his eyes moved to meet hers in their reflection. Clarabella looked up from her hunched position, and she instantly understood his features.

"Tell me, Clara—what, exactly, _does_ orange mean?"

Straightening up, but not turning to meet his gaze, Clarabella replied shakily, "U-Uh… happiness. I'm happy that I got this right."

"But you said that pink was happiness," Jack countered.

"… Excitement?"

"Green." She could practically hear his smirk.

"I…" She turned slowly to face him. "I, uh… don't know. I only really started turning orange yesterday." Clarabella didn't like the feeling of being caught off guard. Without being able to bat her eyelashes and tease her way out of this increasingly-sticky situation, the nymph felt defenseless against the charming and clever sprite.

"Hmm…" Jack placed a fist beneath his chin as he mimed thinking hard, "I wonder what only I—Old Man Winter—can make you feel that you would turn orange at?"

Finally, at being pushed this hard, Clarabella regained her composure. With a flirtatious grin, she batted her eyelashes. "I don't know. But we'll have to find out another time—I'm exhausted from that! It was like a magic workout!" She hugged him quickly as she thanked him, but when she moved to leave, he stopped her briefly.

"If you'd like to take a nap, my guest room is open to you, Clara."

Clarabella shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks—I don't want Mother Nature catching us." He escorted her through his suite and helped her with her jacket. Her nimble fingers shook lightly and had trouble buttoning up the front, but she completed the task after a minute.

"Thanks again, Jack. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, Clara, the pleasure was all mine." He kissed the very tip of her knuckle before she left.

It most certainly was.

**Author's Note:** _Questions to the Readers: _What does everyone think? How does everyone feel about this turn of events? And what about Mother Nature's allegations against Jack? What do you think of the pearl rings?

_Trivia Question:_ This is a tricky one: What Shakespearean play are all the quotes that make up the chapter titles from? (Hint: I've never expressed the name in the fanfiction.)

I would just like to remind everyone that questions to the characters are still being accepted!

I look forward to everyone's reviews, as always. Until next time!


	5. And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** This update is occurring in the holiday season, which I am greatly looking forward to since I could definitely use a big helping of holiday cheer. I am in need of some hot cocoa; a great, big holiday hug; and the chance to watch _The Escape Clause_… but everyone I know is really busy now, so I know no one will want to watch it with me (and my family definitely won't watch it with me since it practically lived in our DVD player last Christmas, and they got sick of it). -sigh- Oh, well…

The pace really starts to pick up within the next couple chapters, so get ready! I'm going to try to post the next few chapters relatively quickly for this reason.

By the way, I'm pleased to see that there are new fanfictions in the fandom! Thanks to the authors!

_Trivia Question Winners:_ The answer to the question was… _Richard III_. The winners are: ForeverACharmedOne (Again, I adore your lengthy reviews! I'm glad you like the pearl rings; I quite like them, myself [but, as the author, I may be somewhat biased lol :P]. Teeheehee, I can see that you enjoy this fanfiction's humor! I'm having a good time writing it, myself. I look forward to your review to this chapter!), Trekkie101 (Obviously you knew the answer to this trivia question, already.), Giana (I'm glad you're enjoying the fanfiction. I look forward to your next review!), and PossiblyImpossible (Your thorough reviews are always happily accepted. :) Thank you so much for your support. I'm glad you think that Jack and Clarabella go well together! [I do, too, obviously. :P] I look forward to your next review! P.S. I am terribly sorry I have not gotten around to reviewing your fanfiction yet; either I'm incredibly busy, or I forget. :/ I will try to get to it soon, though! :D ).

_Questions to the Characters:_ Jack read through the question etched onto the ice tablet and smirked.

"Well, hello again, Gi. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I'm afraid you'll just have to read the chapter to find out how I make my snowflakes. I promise it will be worth your while, however; it's an incredibly fascinating process."

**Publish Date:** Wednesday, December 08, 2010.

_Why it Snows in Spring_

Chapter Five: And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy

"And so the guy tells me to make like a tree and leave. And _leave_!" Doyle's goose-honk laugh rattled annoyingly in Clarabella's skull. She grimaced on instinct, but at the last moment curved the corners of her lips up in a forced half-smile.

Doyle took this as reluctance, and elbowed her awkwardly as he chuckled. "D'ya get it? He said 'leave,' but meant 'leaf'! _And_ I'm the autumn sprite!" He clapped his hand on the table several times. "Who knew humans could be so… intuitive? And, well," he added once his laughter subsided, "silly. I mean, really, how can a human look at us and not completely realize who we are?"

Clarabella, who loved humans and their ways, immediately stiffened in her chair. "Because, Doyle, that's the point: they're not supposed to be able to realize who we are. That's what we, as seasonal heralds, are supposed to do: be our best when it comes to be our season, and do so anonymously. Could you imagine what would happen if we were to reveal ourselves? Someone might force humans into their control, gaining fame and power in the process. It's not right. This is our duty, Doyle," Clarabella determinedly tapped the table with her finger to emphasize her point, "to take care of humans and ask for nothing in return. And to enjoy it." She straightened in her seat. "And I do. Very much."

Doyle swallowed, and a light sheen of perspiration developed on his forehead, despite the fact that the Elfsburg Café was not all that warm. "I, uh…" He tugged at the collar of his loose-fitting shirt. "I… didn't mean it that way; I highly enjoy my job, I… I just think that humans… are amusing… you know, in a somewhat… mortal… way." He suddenly became intrigued by the gold buttons lining the middle of his shirt.

Clarabella continued staring, unimpressed, at the top of the autumn sprite's head. He suddenly chuckled, an odd, high sound that reminded the nymph of an instrument in need of tuning.

"Leaf…"

The blonde's eyes widened and she leaned back in her chair in an effort to widen the gap between herself and her… _ugh_… betrothed. As soon as Clarabella had taken her seat inside the café, rather than sitting on the opposite side of the table from her, Doyle had dragged his chair to her side and sat facing her, his knees touching hers.

It goes without saying that things snowballed from there.

Snowballed. Jack. This was not the first time Clarabella fantasized what a date with the older sprite would be like. Much better than her dates with Doyle had been, that much was for sure.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Doyle muttered with bite under his breath, "Humans certainly know who Jack Frost is."

Clarabella felt goosebumps rise along her arms at hearing the winter sprite's name. She closed her eyes and forced them to remain a bored maroon.

"What do you have against Jack?" She opened her eyes and looked expectantly at him.

Doyle snapped his head up, and his eyes widened, shocked that she had heard him. "Uh… Well, you see… It's just that… he always begins his season early. He shouldn't start working until December twenty-first, but he always makes it snow in early December, sometimes before that… And, well… Bridgette likes to stick around a while longer than she should, too… It's just…" Clarabella watched with distaste as he fiddled childishly with the ends of his orange sleeves, "I want my full season… to myself, like he does, you know? _And_, on top of that, humans definitely know of him. It's not fair." Doyle exhaled and pouted dramatically.

Clarabella blinked. "Jack has been working since before we were born; he's been working for several of our lifetimes. He and Bridgette, both. They are both incredibly powerful sprites. Although you and I have been doing our jobs for fifteen years, we've only just made it official with the Council. The two of them know way more about the delicate balance of the seasons than we can hope to learn in the next century. We should not question them."

She stared firmly into Doyle's golden amber eyes for a long, tensely silent minute. As soon as he drew in a breath to speak, Clarabella knew she had had enough for the day. "You know, I'm actually feeling kinda tired." She affected a yawn on cue, even stretching to add to her act. "I think we should call it a day."

Doyle's eyebrows furrowed. "It's not even noon, yet."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," Clarabella countered.

Doyle blinked, watching her as she pulled on her jacket and rose to leave. "Well," he began promptly, scrambling over his long limbs to get to his feet, "at least let me walk you back to your suite?"

"No need; I'll be fine," Clarabella said briskly as a fresh breeze, striding toward the exit.

"Well, well… well," Doyle slid between two tables and flipped over a chair before finally catching Clarabella by the door. "Well… Well, at least… I mean, would it be possible for me to… Could I…" He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply to slow his rapid heartbeat and calm himself. "You can do this Doyle. You go. You are the autumn sprite, D-Man."

Elves nearby turned to stare uncomfortably at him. Clarabella's eyes widened in horror at this display of her future husband—this time being done publically—and tried to do some damage control by throwing charming smiles at their audience and forcing a chuckle.

"Clarabella… May I have the honor of… kissing you?" Doyle's eyes opened, and Clarabella had to quickly shut her mouth, which had dropped open in dread and embarrassment at the inquiry.

Her shoulders sagged and, with a sigh, she relented in a grumble, "Yeah, sure." _May as well get this over with…_

Doyle's face cracked into a lopsided, ecstatic grin. "R-Really? Okay, okay, okay…" He said over and over like a mantra before leaning in toward her face. His lips a couple inches from hers, he whispered the last thing she expected to hear at that moment:

"Your lips… look… delicious…"

Clarabella's face—and stomach—turned at the comment, and he kissed her cheek.

Clearing her throat, she mumbled, "Bye," and walked out the door.

.x:X:x.

Jack looked through his flake-o-scope to the snow crystal beneath. Using a laser, he carefully etched the shape and design out of the material. This side was a little too thick… a wispy vein of ice needed to dissect the middle of the structure for support… the points needed to be rounded on this snowflake…

A light rap on the door interrupted his work. He quickly finished the snowflake and carefully stored it in a small freeze box contained within a drawer of his desk.

As soon as he turned the doorknob, his visitor burst in and squeezed him tightly.

"I've missed you so much!" He recognized Clarabella's voice, and her pink, pink hair.

_We just saw each other yesterday. _Jack quickly recovered from the surprise hug and, kicking the door shut, embraced her small frame. "I feel quite the same way, Clara."

Clarabella's face turned up from its place on his chest, and she grinned slyly. "I know."

She was not letting go of him. Not that he minded, of course, but he knew that pulling away prematurely would leave her wanting more.

It never failed with nymphs.

Stepping back, he asked her, "Is there anything I can do for you?" Clarabella pouted subtly, and Jack noted it with a grin.

"Yes… No… I don't know…" Clarabella sighed as he took her jacket from her and led her to his couch, offering her a mug of cocoa on the way. "It's about Doyle."

"Ah, yes," Jack lightly teased as he poured her drink from the kettle he'd already had on warming on the stove. "The ever so insightful Doyle." He handed her the mug. "What about him?"

Clarabella polished off half the cocoa in one gulp. Jack couldn't help but half-smirk at the display of the young nymph guzzling down his cocoa.

"He's… He's… Oh, Jack, he's not for me." He pulled out a glass coaster with the word "Frost" engraved into it, and set it on the table for her to rest her mug on.

"He's just _sooooo_… awkward… _and_ offensive! He said that humans were 'amusing.'" Clarabella made air-quotes with a sour face. "How belittling! How degrading! How dare he?" She groaned and threw her head back on the couch before sitting up, moving toward Jack and becoming even more animated.

"_And_ do you know what _else_ he did?" Clarabella's nails turned a boiling orange-rust color as they fluttered quickly through the air.

"He _asked for my permission to kiss me!_" At first, Jack didn't move, until Clarabella's eyebrows lowered and shot back up again to emphasize her point.

Jack's face rearranged to accommodate incredulous shock. _Interesting little thing she turned out to be; e__very other nymph in the world would love to be shown an act of chivalry like that._

"I know!" Clarabella screeched. She seized her cocoa and drank down the rest of it, plopping it none-too-gently onto the glass coaster. "That's so wishy-washy! I need a sprite who takes me into his arms," she grabbed Jack's shoulders firmly and pulled him close to her, "looks me dead in the eye," her plump lips were a breath away from the winter sprite's, "and just… just…"

Jack could smell honey on her breath. He was sorely tempted to close the space between them himself…

...but he knew he wanted her to do it. It would make it all the sweeter, knowing _she_ was the one putting the moves on _him_, knowing _she_ was interested in _him_, knowing _she_ wanted to pursue _him_.

Jack Frost—although not by any means a patient sprite—could wait.

Clarabella's eyes melted into a deep pink hue as they dropped to Jack's mouth. Her chest rose and fell heavily and rapidly as she paused for a moment before beginning to lower her lips to his…

A loud, dull _plop_ sounded from outside the large window. Just as Clarabella moved to investigate, Jack cursed under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

He had been _so close_…

"Oh, my goodness! Jack!" Clarabella called, bending over the windowsill to survey the pile of snow that had fallen off his roof. Water flowed quickly after it for a moment before dwindling into a drizzle.

"I don't think anyone was hurt, thank goodness." Clarabella turned to face him as he walked toward her. "What happened Jack?" The usual playful lilt to her voice and mischief in her eye had returned as she reached up to straighten his tie. She gripped it tightly and pulled it down so she was nose-to-nose with him. "Did it get a little… _warm_ for you?"

Jack mentally cursed his lack of control. Granted, it may have been a while since he'd been with a nymph, but he was a fully-grown sprite who should be able to keep his powers under control, not allow them to get the best of him when a new nymph showed interest in him.

Jack spread an unaffected grin on his face. "Nymph, please. Jack Frost never gets warm."

Clarabella shot him a disbelieving—yet still teasing—look as she retained her grip on his tie.

Bringing her mouth close to his, she whispered, "We'll see," before releasing him and sauntering back over to his couch, plopping down onto it so that her skirt spread around her on the cushion.

"So, Jack," she gazed up at him as she played with a strand of hair fluttering on an invisible breeze, "enough about me, what's new with you?"

Jack stood his ground. "Well, Christmas is fast approaching, which is…" he rolled his eyes and muttered, "just peachy for the big man."

Clarabella arched an eyebrow. "What's your problem with Christmas? I'm the spring sprite and even _I_ love it!"

"Oh, Clara. Soon, you too will desire the credit you deserve without having to share it with a glory-hogging holiday mascot. You'll start wanting a holiday of your own like St. Bloomentines's Day or New Bloom's Eve…" His voice lowered as he huffed, "I don't see what so wrong with having a Frostmas holiday." Jack shook his head, crossed the floor, and tapped the nymph on the nose as he took his seat beside her once more. "It's quite adorable how unaffected you are as of yet."

"I don't mind sharing the spotlight with the Easter Bunny—he's such a nice rabbit!"

"Just you wait, Clara." Jack's voice was low and lacked dramatic flair; Clarabella knew she was hearing the unguarded truth from the winter sprite. "Just you wait."

He fell silent. That was all he would say. Although she hadn't known Jack for very long at all, Clarabella already knew that he was the type of sprite that didn't like letting others hear his true desires unfiltered.

She lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. Her head suddenly shot up, and her eyes brightened.

"Jack," she could only breathe as the idea formed in her mind. Placing her hands on his, she said, "Come to my suite tomorrow night."

"Can't. Tomorrow's the twenty-first, the first day of winter. I'll be working round-the-clock tomorrow."

"The night after, then."

"I'll still be working."

"Oh… The night after that—the twenty-third. The night before Christmas Eve. Come then? Please?" Clarabella batted her thick eyelashes, her plump lower lip turned up in a pout.

Jack knew he was going to be _exhausted_ from his first days of work, but he knew he should to take Clarabella up on her surprise invitation. After all, he was going to need a Mrs. Claus.

"You, Miss Bloom, drive a hard bargain. Of course I'll come." Clarabella squealed and jumped up and down in her place. "What are you planning?"

"Well," she began as she walked to the closet to retrieve her jacket, "I guess you'll just have to come and find out. I must be going; there are so many preparations to be made!"

And just like that, she was gone.

**Author's Note:** So, what do you think about Clarabella's invitation? What do you think will happen? What about that almost-kiss; what do you think about that?

_Trivia Question:_ Okay, so this week I am making the trivia question into an opinion question. Multiple reviewers have claimed that they like the idea of the BloomFrost pairing. My question to you all this chapter is: Why do you like Jack and Clarabella together? Why do you think they would be good together as an official item?

I can't wait to read your reviews!


	6. Whither Away so Fast?

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** I hope everyone has been enjoying their summer! Bridgette has certainly been doing her best to make it a hot and enjoyable one.

I just want to point out that I have now _**enabled private messaging**_, and would _love_ to hear from my readers. If you'd like to make comments or suggestions to me on my fanfics, please feel free!

_Trivia Question Winners:_ Giana (Thanks so much for your input! I'm so flattered to know you think this is the best Jack Frost story! :D Please keep reading and reviewing!), IAmYourPhobia (Yes, they certainly have a way with playing others to get what they want but you're right, the two are also very different from each other. Their differences will become even more important later on in the story. I can't wait to read your review for this chapter!), ForeverACharmedOne (As usual, I LOVE your lengthy reviews! It gives me a great idea of how the readers are receiving the characters and the storyline of this fanfic so far, plus what I am doing well and what I can do better with. Yes, Doyle certainly has a long way to go, but then again, he's no Jack Frost. :P I love your phrase "snowy sparks"; it's totally perfect for the two of them. As always, I can't wait to read your thoughts on this chapter in your next review!), Another Dilettante (I, too, am shocked at the low number of fanfics featuring Jack Frost and, on top of that, the low number of quality fanfics featuring him. I certainly hope I'm doing a decent job writing his character and including him in my ideas for this fanfic! What you said in your last review is true; Jack and Clarabella are definitely not dull together. Within the next few chapters, you'll see just how not dull they are! :P Please keep reading and reviewing!), Possibly Impossible (I FINALLY began reading your fanfic, and I'll be posting my reviews shortly. TERRIBLY sorry for the extremely long delay; obviously, I haven't even had enough time to update my own fanfiction for over half a year, let alone review anyone else's. I'm so glad you liked the almost-kiss; you'll be sure to LOVE the next chapter. :P I'm so glad that you've caught on to the fact that Clarabella is smarter than she lets on; it's important. I can't wait to read your review for this chapter!), Trekkie101 (Thank you so much for all your awesome reviews and for all the times you let me bounce ideas off of you when we have our fanfic writing sessions! You're the best! :D I always love reading your reviews and hearing what you think of my fanfiction. I can't wait to read what your review for this chapter!), and R i v e r B l e u (Thank you for noticing the lengthy chapters! This one's twelve pages long in size ten font! I guess I just have a lot to say about the characters and the storyline they create! LOL! I'm glad you like Jack's reactions to Clarabella. Please keep reading and reviewing!).

_Question to the Characters:_ justiceintheworldofhp-yearight's question will be answered in this chapter's question to the characters!

"First of all," Jack began, placing the ice tablet down onto his table, "I would just like to set the record straight: I quite like humans. I wouldn't be doing this job if I didn't. However, I would like them even more if more of them were aware of who I am, but I digress." He grinned.

"On to your question, which is whether I've ever fallen in love with a mortal. Jack Frost _never _falls in love. Ever. Nymphs and mortal women fall in love with moi, but, what can I say? There's plenty of Jack Frost to go around, and I take advantage of that." He winked and his dimples blinked into existence. Waving, he finished, "Thanks for the question."

**Publish Date:** Saturday, September 3, 2011.

Why it Snows in Spring

Chapter Six: Whither Away so Fast?

"Hey! Ava! Totally gnarly skateboard!" Santa chuckled, splaying his pinky and thumb. The elf's ears wiggled in delight at her boss's praise. "Keep up the great work." Santa patted Ava on the back and continued strolling down the aisle of elves hammering away on toy trains, painting away on dolls' faces, and sewing away on stuffed animals.

"Ooh, hey, Elijah." Santa sucked air through his teeth and tenderly pulled the stuffed ballerina cat from the elf's grasp. "You gotta be gentle with the tulle, buddy. It's starting to rip, see?" Santa indicated holes in the ballerina's tutu, and the elf blushed.

"Sorry, Santa," Elijah muttered, taking back the stuffed animal and pulling off its skirt. "I'll make a new one right away."

Santa's lips curled up in a warm smile as he praised, "Atta boy."

_We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas—_ Santa fished in his pocket and produced his cell phone.

"Good morning, honey," Santa greeted, silently accepting an elf's request to inspect his toy boat. Peering one eye down the length of the multicolored plastic, he continued, "How did you sleep?"

Santa's face gradually slackened, and the glimmer that had lit up his eyes moments prior faded. "What do you mean you're not feeling well?" He absentmindedly handed the plastic boat back to the elf, not pausing to give him a critique. "But you were just fine yesterday. And I thought you were done with morning sickness…" Several elves approached him, but he shook his head at them and walked toward the back of the workshop. "Oh. I see."

Santa's gaze traveled out the window, unseeing. He blinked and began pacing up the aisle as he spoke. "Carol, look, I understand that you're not feeling well today, I do, but I didn't know that when I got up this morning. I had to wake up early to try and catch up on toy production; we're falling behind, and so—"

More elves followed him wanting feedback on their toys, and he waved them sharply away, irritated. He sighed and massaged his temples at her response. "Yes, dear. I'll be there in a minute."

Clarabella glanced up sleepily from where she had been admiring the dolls' dresses when she heard Santa struggling on his side of the conversation with his wife.

The spring nymph yawned heartily and then silently cursed her rude awakening earlier that morning.

.x:X:x.

_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

_Clarabella moaned in her slumber, stretching lithely beneath her down comforter as sleep escaped her limbs. She opened her heavy eyelids and peered through her jumbled golden hair to read the face of her energy-efficient cuckoo alarm clock._

_5:23. An unspritely hour._

"_Clara!"_

_The nymph instantly emerged from her sleep-induced haze. That nasally voice could only belong to one person…_

"_Clara! It's me, Doyle! Your betrothed!"_

"_Allergies!" Clarabella grumbled to herself under her breath, growling low and jamming a pillow over her head to muffle the noise._

_Her efforts were futile. "Clara! Darling! I had been most deeply asleep—dreaming, of course, of you—when the most inspirationally romantic notion dawned on me: today we shall spend every waking moment together! Literally!"_

_Clarabella squeaked in horror and froze._

_Thud! Thud! Thud! "Clara? What do you think?"_

_She paused only to draw a breath before scurrying out of bed and dashing to her dresser to change in a blur._

"_Clara, are you in there?"_

_The nymph, who always took particular pleasure in spending copious amounts of time primping each morning, rushed to brush her hair and apply her make-up. She was finished in only a fraction of her usual time, and even as she slipped out her back door and skipped off her porch, she could still hear Doyle knocking away and calling for her._

.x:X:x.

"Excuse me! Elves, may I have your attention—" Santa halted at the front of the workshop when he realized that the elves had paused in their work to listen to his phone conversation and now blinked at him expectantly.

"Please." Santa raised his hands to his throbbing temples; his ribbon skein-long list of responsibilities and obligations only seeming to stretch farther and farther.

"I need to quickly check in with Mrs. Claus. In the meantime, you will report any issues to Curtis and continue production; we have to catch up or we'll fall even further behind. I'll be back in two shakes of a reindeer's tail."

"Yes, Santa," the elves chorused as one, returning promptly to their work as machines whirred to life once more.

As Santa made a beeline to his house, Clarabella hurried to keep up with him.

"Wait! Santa!" She cried out, mentally cursing her snap decision to wear strappy sandals when the snow obviously called for a pair of her high-heeled boots.

Santa didn't even look over his shoulder at the nymph as he waved her away. Cell phone at his ear once more, he listened with frustration before slamming it shut with a low growl, muttering to himself, "That's just great—I can't get a hold of Dr. Hismus, Carol's sick, I have to go fetch her parents soon, and I can't even oversee Jack's 'community service' because I have so many other things I have to do! Can this day get any worse?"

"Santa," Clarabella called out sweetly, tiptoeing daintily in the big boot prints he left in his wake.

Santa growled and shook his head to clear it.

"Santa, I can help!" Clarabella called to him.

"Not now," he waved her away once more, pulling out his cell phone again. "Maybe I _should_ ask for those chocolate eggs, just in case." Sighing, he pressed a button on speed dial and raised the phone to his ear. "Hey, E.B.? This is Santa. I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer to make some extra chocolate eggs for me? Like I said at the meeting today, we're falling really behind, and everything is hitting me at once, so it would be a big help if you could…"

"Oh, Santa, I can help!" Clarabella bounded in front of the white-haired man, who promptly brushed her aside and continued his conversation with the Easter Bunny.

"Thanks so much, E.B. This is such a big help, you don't even know… Yes, yes, that'd be wonderful. Look, I understand this is a lot for you to do in such a short amount of time, so if you need anything come Eastertime, give me a call and I'll priority elf mail you some candy canes and fruit cakes, alright?"

"Santa!"

"Alright, great. Thanks, again! I owe ya." Santa flipped his cell phone shut and grabbed the doorknob to his house when Clarabella rested her hand on top of his and stepped between him and the door.

"Santa. I. Can. Help. You." Clarabella enunciated each word to ensure he didn't brush her off so easily this time.

"Clarabella, in case you couldn't tell, I have stress pouring out of my ears. I have so much stress I could use it to light the entire North Pole—Christmas trees and all—for the next year. So unless you have magical fairy dust that you could sprinkle on my life right here, right now to make it all better, please step aside." Santa's eyes didn't sparkle like they usually did; they were completely exhausted and dulled of their usual luster.

The blonde swallowed her knee-jerk response that she was a nymph, not a fairy, and that it was a common—yet annoying—occurrence to mistake one for the other, and instead held her ground, knowing she could offer Santa the answer to at least one of his many problems, knowing he needed to hear what she had to say.

"I can make Mrs. Claus a tea that will help her get well quickly—a magical tea. I create all the herbs and spices I use in my teas myself; in fact, Dr. Hismus uses my products all the time for his medicine. You and the entire North Pole should know by now how fast his medicine works; I'm the reason why. I'm not a doctor, so I can't make medicines, but my teas are all-natural and work just as well with a little help from my magic. Just let me try to heal her. If I'm unable to—which has not once happened to me ever—then I'll be on my way. But I _will_ make her well, Santa. Just let me help you. Please?"

.x:X:x.

"Carol," Santa called out once he and Clarabella had entered his home. "Honey, I have a surprise for you."

"Gifts aren't going to help me now…" Mrs. Claus groaned from the master bedroom at the end of the hall. "Is Dr. Hismus with you?"

"No, but I have someone else who can help," he responded, turning into the bedroom.

Mrs. Claus lay supported by a mass of plump pillows and half-covered by blankets strewn every which way on the bed, as if she couldn't figure out whether she was too hot or too cold.

Mrs. Claus struggled to sit up more, and she looked at the approaching nymph quizzically.

"The spring nymph?" Mrs. Claus turned to gaze confusedly at her husband. "I don't understand."

Clarabella skipped to Mrs. Claus's bed and plopped down on the edge. She took a good look at Mrs. Claus's luxurious red robe, cream sweater that brought out the gold of her hair, and slacks that were tailored to make her legs appear miles long and fell into awe.

Oh what she wouldn't give for a shopping spree through Mrs. Claus's wardrobe!

Swallowing, Clarabella began, "I make all-natural herbal teas to help you with any aches and pains you have, Mrs. Claus. As the nymph of spring, I am also, by nature, the nymph of fertility and therefore able to help remedy women having a tough time with their pregnancy. What's ailing you, Mrs. Claus?"

Mrs. Claus turned, puzzled, to her husband, who merely raised a finger to excuse himself from the room. Blinking as if in a daze, she turned to the blonde nymph smiling at her and replied, "Everything: my feet are swollen, my back aches, and I think I have a cold because my nose is so stuffed I could be a teddy bear," she despaired, reaching over to her bedside table to retrieve a tissue. "A pregnant teddy bear."

"I can fix you up in a rain drop, Mrs. Claus," Clarabella promised as she pulled form the folds of her gauzy violet-and-peridot skirt a small satchel. "You'll be right as rain in no time!"

She flipped the satchel open and kept flipping until it was twice the length of Clarabella's arm and the width of three pillows combined.

Even Mrs. Claus, who was now accustomed to the myriad of forms magic could take, couldn't stop her jaw from dropping at how large the miniature satchel had become.

Clarabella swatted at the satchel, now fully unfolded and occupying half the bed, and puffs of sparkly dust swirled from it.

"Nice, huh?" The nymph asked Mrs. Claus, her fingers already trailing over the little pockets of varied herbs and spices. "I got it from a fairy a while back, which explains all the glitter." Noticing the sparkles that were collecting on the bed, she cooed, "Ooh! Pretty!"

Santa returned to the room with a kettle of boiling water and a tea cup decorated with tiny painted poinsettias.

Clarabella hummed a tune to herself as she selected various herbs from the pockets of the flat satchel. "Clementines for the cold… vanilla to relax… mint to soothe the aches. Mrs. Claus, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Well… I enjoy it when the elves make gingerbread men."

"Ginger for flavoring it is, then." Clarabella combined these ingredients into a tea bag with a draw string and dunked it into the cup.

"And, of course, my favorite part," Clarabella giggled. Placing two fingers to her lips, she kissed them and released it. The kiss shimmered brightly, like a spider web at midday, and drifted down to the drink like falling pollen. "A little of my magic to speed things up." The nymph winked and handed the tea cup to Mrs. Claus, who breathed in the aromatic stream.

"Mm. It certainly smells good. Or, at least, I'm sure it would if I could actually smell it." Mrs. Claus's nose trumpeted into a tissue to emphasize her point.

Mrs. Claus slowly lifted the teacup to her mouth and took a tentative sip. Sip turned to gulp, and soon she had polished off half her drink.

"Mm! Clarabella this is really good!" She exclaimed, her nose already less red and her cheeks gaining a healthy glow.

The nymph twirled a lock of hair around her finger and replied cheerfully, "I know."

Mrs. Claus set the tea cup back on her bedside table and breathed a deep sigh of relief through her nose. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back against the mountain of pillows and smiled. "I feel better already." Her hands slid up the curve of her stomach as she reclined.

Santa beamed and leaned down to whisper in his wife's ear as Clarabella folded up her satchel once more. "I'm going to pick up your parents now. Get some rest, finish your tea, and I'll see you soon." Mrs. Claus murmured her excitement, and Santa tenderly kissed her forehead.

"Oh, but who'll take care of the arrangements? The ones to make the North Pole look like Canada?" Mrs. Claus fretted.

"I put Jack in charge," Santa replied, straightening up.

Clarabella paused momentarily on her way to the door, and the pointed tip of her ear twitched pleasantly at the sound of the winter sprite's name.

Mrs. Claus's eyebrow arched. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"We discussed this before, dear; he's a changed sprite."

Clarabella fastened the pouch to a fold in her skirt and had just reached the door when Mrs. Claus called to her, "Thanks so much, Clarabella! I'm feeling almost good as new already."

With a smile, Clarabella told her as she had to so many others, "Just Clara, please."

.x:X:x.

Clarabella sauntered away from the Claus house, magic pulsing pleasurably through her veins at the knowledge that she'd helped a human.

Alright, so Mrs. Claus, being legendary by marriage and having power of her own, was quite a bit more than human, but it was the closest Clarabella would come to helping a real human for a while. Unless one were to just waltz through the North Pole, Clarabella would have to wait until a magical holiday occurred in which the veil between the human realm and the magical one was thinned, like Christmas or Halloween; or she visited another magical place in which the veil was always thin, like Stone Henge, in order for a human to be able to see her. Outside of those restrictions, however, no human being could perceive her or any sprite.

Unfortunately for the human-loving nymph, the North Pole wasn't known for its human population.

"…Elf Number One," the nymph heard a familiar teasing drawl off to her left and instantly felt goosebumps tickle her arms.

_Stupid sandals_, the spring nymph muttered to herself, shaking each foot in turn to rid them of snow.

Glancing up, she watched as Curtis drove the skidoo away, Jack gazing thoughtfully after it and tossing and catching a snowball he held in his pale hand. The devilish grin on Jack's face drew a heated blush to Clarabella's face, and she knew that, had it been springtime, the flowers would have blossomed all at once with an oncoming heatwave and sunshower.

"Jack!" A gangly sprite that turned Clarabella's pleasant sunshowers into bone-chilling downpours approached the winter sprite, a magnificent bouquet of roses, lilies, and birds of paradise (all her own work, she might add) spilling over the crook of his arm like a floral waterfall.

The downpour turned into a cloudless, uncommonly blistering spring day that teetered on the brink of summer.

Clarabella quickly side-stepped behind a pillar of the post office, peeking one enraged tagimoucia-hued eye around it.

Jack's face didn't shift from its mischievous smirk as he turned to face Doyle. His cold eyes glazing over as he schemed, the winter sprite replied, "Hmm?"

Panting hard, Doyle couldn't stand in one spot while he spoke; he paced all around his fellow seasonal herald, searching. "Have you seen her? Clara? I've seen her with you before, is she here with you now?"

A purposeful heartbeat later, the older sprite deadpanned, "Considering the fact that she isn't here with me now, I'd say she isn't here with me now."

Undeterred, Doyle continued, huffing, "Well, do you know where she could be?"

Clarabella tiptoed backwards, stopping briefly behind every column she came to. Finally, when she was behind the post office, she took off at a sprint, one of the many things nymphs were better at than sprites, and for this very reason; since the days of Daphne and Apollo, nymphs have always needed to be the best at running in order to evade pursuit from amorous sprites and suitors in general.

Thank Daphne that the trait was passed along to all nymphs, for Clarabella's legs carried her far from the center of town to a quiet corner of the North Pole tucked away beyond the hustle and bustle of downtown. This is where Clarabella found a humble building decorated with bronze suns and beachy hues.

Bridgette's suite.

Checking behind herself to be sure she wasn't followed, Clarabella approached the abnormally tall front door and banged the doorknocker—shaped like an oyster that opened and closed to reveal a pearl within—three times.

As the last knock reverberated through the building, she heard a solemn voice from within declare, "Enter."

Clarabella opened the door and faced a tangible heat wave that made her instantly claw at her jacket, peeling it off her already perspiring form.

Closing it behind her, she walked down a corridor that grew warmer with each step she took. One of the doors at the end was open and, with enough willpower to press through the wall of heat, she poked her head in.

Clarabella watched as the redheaded nymph, eyebrows furrowed in concentration over a pair of sunglasses, bent over a small glare of sunlight that seemed to be the epicenter of the heat. Her hands closed in on the golden globe of light, and it flared and bloomed.

Clarabella gasped and ducked behind the doorframe at the intense warmth. Looking up from her work, Bridgette immediately evaporated the spark of heat as easily as if she had just extinguished a flame and pulled off her sunglasses.

"Clarabella," she stated, as if someone had just shown her a strawberry and asked her to identify it. "What a… surprise."

The blonde peeked a curious yellow eye around the doorframe and said, "Very impressive work. Not that that means a lot coming from a newcomer like me, but… for what it's worth."

Bridgette stayed rooted to the spot as she surveyed the younger nymph, who had stepped into the room fully now, hazel eyes darkening as they swept up and down her petite form.

She remained silent, until finally the blonde said, "It's nice to see you again, Bridgette."

A faint smile twitched on the older nymph's tanned and freckled face, but still she never responded.

Clarabella bounced on the balls of her feet, twirling her airy skirt around her in a display of birdlike preening. It was a full minute of loud silence before she twirled a curl around her finger and asked shyly, "May I see more of it?" She battled her eyelashes out of habit, though she believed it would have no effect on the other nymph.

Bridgette brought her gaze back up to Clarabella's eyes and blinked hard in surprise, as if the blonde had suddenly appeared there.

"I don't see why not," she replied instantly, having been snapped out of her reverie.

She waved her closer to the worktable and slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose again, digging in the drawer underneath it and pulling out an extra pair for the younger nymph. "Be sure to wear these at all times, Clarabella."

The blonde put the sunglasses on. "Clara, please."

"Clarabella," Bridgette responded dryly. After a long pause, her lip tilted up and the addressed nymph knew it had been a joke. Or, at least, as close to one as Bridgette was going to make.

"Observe, Clarabella, the exact science of summer." Bridgette's hands cupped and immediately Clarabella's skin warmed uncomfortably, beads of sweat forming on her skin as a drop of pure sunlight formed from nothing. The copper-haired nymph's forefingers flicked and the golden light altered, like an instantaneous scene change, to a sphere of wind contained within her expert fingers. Clarabella's hair whipped straight back as the distinct scent of salt assaulted her nose. She reached a perfectly manicured hand into the abyss swirling within Bridgette's grasp and felt the moist air of the sea.

Bridgette elbowed the younger nymph's hand away from the miniature oceanic wind storm, and her forefingers once more twitched to accommodate a scaled down version of a thunderstorm. A forked lightning bolt struck Clarabella, who squeaked and pulled her hand away instantly, rubbing the flesh that had received a shock not unlike that of static electricity.

Bridgette smirked mischievously, and thunder rumbled in the distance like a cat's growl. Suddenly, the storm was swallowed up by nothing, and the summer nymph drew in a deep breath of satisfaction at this round of practice for her seasonal magic.

Aside from feeling a mild twinging sensation in her left hand, Clarabella felt the wondrous sweep of adoration grip hold of her. Awestruck, she stared at the space Bridgette's hands had only moments before converted into a tiny summer orb. Bridgette could create all that within a space she determined and controlled, use enough power so that Clarabella could be intensely effected by it, and do all that on a small scale without even growing fatigued? The spring nymph, after fifteen years of service to Mother Nature, still had to take frequent breaks, and could only just barely control her powers on a normal scale out in the field!

"Woah," Clarabella breathed, eyes not moving from the previous epicenter of summer activity. "Woah," she said again, like a child seeing snow for the first time. "That was spectacular, Bridgette, really."

Bridgette's mouth formed a full—still modest, still content, and in no way over-the-top like Clarabella's would've been—smile this time, as she accepted the praise graciously. "I practice quite often—"

"But you know what would make it even _better_?" Clarabella's eyes sparkled once she pulled off the sunglasses. Turning to face Bridgette full-on, her hands fluttered through the air excitedly as she critiqued, "You should make it prettier. Like, more colorful, more vivacious, more… more sparkly! You should make it more sparkly." She nodded her head rapidly at her ideas. "Because the more beautiful you make it, the more perfect it is. And the more perfect and beautiful you make it, the more humans will love it! And, well, me, of course, if it's any consolation." She giggled and waited anxiously to hear the summer nymph's response.

Bridgette blinked once. Then twice. And on the third blink, she grasped hers and Clarabella's sunglasses and moved to store them in the drawer once more. "Actually, I have other things I had planned to do today. I'll show you to the door."

With long, steady strides, Bridgette left the room. Clarabella remained still for a moment before skipping after her.

"So, what do you think of my ideas? Huh?" Clarabella asked as Bridgette held open the door for her and helped her into her coat.

"Have an enjoyable day, Clarabella." Bridgette shut the door.

"We'll discuss it another time, then!" Clarabella called through the door, waving at the summer nymph through the window. Bridgette promptly pulled the curtains shut.

"Oh, _there_ you are! _Finally!_" Doyle declared as he rushed to the spring nymph, whose eyes had widened like a hunted rabbit's. "I should've known you slept over at Bridgette's house; every nymph's gotta have her nymphs' night, right? Oh! These, m'lady, are for you."

Doyle plopped the obscene lump of flowers into Clarabella's arms, who grew stiff save for the hand stroking along her dying creations. "No thanks necessary, any sprite would've done the same for a beautiful girlfriend like you."

Clarabella, who loved all things beautiful, including herself, mentally cursed her appearance just then for bringing about the deaths of over three dozen of her flowers.

The G-Word Doyle had just used pierced through her internal rant. "_Girlfriend?_"

"Of course!" Doyle replied matter-of-factly, grabbing Clarabella's forearm and slipping it through his elbow. "If we're gonna be married, you should at least get used to being called my girlfriend. And, well, soon enough…" He looked around as if he had to tell her a secret. "My fiancé," he whispered, laughing breathily and giddily afterward like an elf telling another about a prank he wanted to pull on Santa.

He sobered too quickly and intensely to be genuine. "And, of course," he puffed his chest out as they strolled, "I'd be more than delighted to hear you call me your boyfriend."

"Oh, look, reindeer!" Clarabella broke away from Doyle and galloped to the stables, the raven-haired sprite taking off after her but not catching up until she halted at the first reindeer she encountered.

"Vixen! Hewwo, bootiful!" The spring nymph cooed lovingly into the big brown eyes of the reindeer, who wagged her tail excitedly and nuzzled her nose into Clarabella's palm.

Panting and leaning against the wall of the stable, Doyle sniffed the air and regarded the reindeer with disgust. "Clara, don't pet them; reindeer are filthy beasts."

Vixen and Clarabella snapped their heads around at Doyle in unison, equally offended.

"Doyle!" Clarabella scolded as Vixen, feelings snubbed, turned her backside primly to the insulting sprite, muzzle in the air. The spring nymph huffed and exclaimed, "See what you did? You've completely upset her! How would you like it if I said the same thing to you?"

Doyle blinked. "Why would you? It would be untrue; I bathe regularly."

Clarabella growled, exasperated, and turned back to the reindeer, finding one of the newer additions to the sled team.

"Chet! Aw! You're so little compared to the others!" Chet snorted and looked away. Clarabella hastily amended, "I mean, look at you! You're such a big boy!" Chet instantly began babbling happily, and managed to poke his head over the top of the door for Clarabella to stroke at his neck.

Doyle sighed, shaking his head. "How do you know which one's which, anyway?"

"Because, _Doyle_, they have their names engraved on the doors if you would step inside enough to look." Clarabella didn't even turn to look at him.

He sighed again, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "Okay, you can pet them, Clara, but please just don't—"

"Muah, muah, muah, you're such a handsome boy!" She pecked Chet's nose and he pressed forward to gain more attention.

"Kiss them. Clarabella, how am I supposed to kiss you after you've had your lips on these flea-bitten unicorns?"

"They're reindeer, Doyle, magical flying reindeer. Not unicorns. Reindeer." Clarabella glared at Doyle solidly as she bit out her words. "And how dare you! Any creature that is magical enough to fly is, I think, more than capable of remaining hygienically sound." She harrumphed and turned back to Chet, whispering to him, "Sorry for that. At least he won't want to kiss me now; isn't that a shame?" She stroked Chet's antlers.

"Is this our first fight?" Doyle sounded suddenly as wilted and sappy as a maple tree.

Clarabella was about to respond when she heard a tiny voice cry from a short distance away, "Come on, I wanna see the reindeer!"

Glancing up, she discovered a diminutive, red-headed figure bounding toward them, two taller figures racing to catch up and calling out, "Lucy! Lucy, not so fast!"

Clarabella blinked hard, thinking maybe she'd gotten some dust in her eyes, distorting two of the incoming elves to make them look taller. But the steady thrum of her magic buzzing against her fingertips and drawing her to them told her all she needed to know.

They weren't elves; they were _humans_!

Doyle glanced up and then lolled his head back in disbelief.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me; what're _humans_ doing at the North Pole?" Shaking his head, he reached a hand out to Clarabella and suggested, "C'mon, Clara, let's go somewhere—"

A squeal, strong and steady and _high_, pierced the air, forcing Doyle to cover his ears as the ecstatic blonde nymph stampeded past, voice trilling like a siren.

Lucy and her parents halted immediately in their tracks at the sight of a petite blonde woman galloping toward them, shrieking in delight.

She thundered first to Laura, surrounding the woman in a bear hug before doing the same to Neil.

"Oh, my goldenrod! I can't believe it! Welcome to the North Pole!" Clarabella pulled back from hugging the pair, grinning brightly, her fingers interlocking to restrain herself from overhugging them.

Laura and Neil pulled away, narrowing their eyes at Clarabella. They could feel that something was different about this woman… When she'd hugged them, their sleigh-lag had instantly melted away and they felt reinvigorated, as if they had just had their proverbial batteries recharged. The pair turned to each other briefly in shock, and Neil wondered momentarily if there was a way to naturally induce this sort of energy for his patients.

Laura was the first to speak. "Wow, what a greeting!" She dropped and raised her glance along the nymph, trying to puzzle her out. "Uh…" She glanced at Neil, who shrugged. "Wha—I mean… Who, exactly, are you?"

"What are you?"

The small voice came from below, and Clarabella's eyes fell to a cute-as-a-daisy young girl with marigold red hair.

Clarabella's now-pink eyes widened, and her lips formed an 'O' as she knelt before the girl in the snow.

"Lucy," Clarabella stated, holding her arms out to her.

"You know my name." Lucy stepped into the nymph's embrace.

The blonde chuckled as her chin hooked over Lucy's shoulder. "I heard your parents say it." She pulled back enough to look the girl in the eye. "I'm a nymph."

Lucy pulled back, feeling the buzz of excess energy humming in her hands. "Woah," she whispered, glancing momentarily at her fingers before addressing Clarabella once more. "Is that like a fairy?"

Clarabella didn't even bristle at the child's misunderstanding, and found herself more endeared by it than anything else. "Sort of," she admitted half-truthfully with a sheepish smile.

"What do you do? Do you live at the North Pole?" Lucy's eyes widened at being in the presence of a magical being.

Clarabella giggled. "Oh, no, it's a bit too cold for me here. As for what I do…" She bit her lip as if she were trying to make a decision. "If I show you something I've never shown anyone before, will you promise to keep it a secret? I'm still working on it, but it's not finished yet."

Lucy stepped closer to the kneeling nymph and nodded her head vigorously. "Yes!"

Clarabella pointed the fingers of her hand and speared them into the snow. Lucy watched as she winked once and then gasped, the moment of conception occurring in the frozen ground beneath.

She removed her hand from the hole. Neil and Laura leaned over their daughter as a plant began to bloom and stretch up, up, up, until it was eye-height with Lucy.

The blossoms were shapeless and totally transparent.

"You make flowers!" Lucy exclaimed, and Clarabella smiled brightly at the correct guess. "I've never seen this one before… Why doesn't it have any colors?" The girl reached forward and touched the flower gently.

Clarabella's mouth scrunched over to the side in thought. "I don't know how I want to design it. All I do know is that I want to create a flower that can grow under snow, and that I want it to be beautiful." Her eyes softened and she reached to palm Lucy's chin. "You are one of the most beautiful little girls I have ever seen."

"Eh, I dunno; I've always thought humans were sort of bland-looking compared to us." Doyle schlepped up to the group, one hand in his pocket, placing the other one firmly on the back of Clarabella's neck. "Wouldn't you agree, darling?"

Lucy stepped back. "Who are you?"

Doyle extended a hand to Lucy, who glanced at it but did not reach out to him. "Doyle Stark. Autumn sprite. Of course, I expect you knew that in some way." He shook Laura's and Neil's hands, and they instantly felt their sleigh-lag return; every ounce of power Clarabella's hug had infused them with evaporated into nothing.

Clarabella watched the change as it happened; although they were still running on pure excitement at visiting the North Pole, she watched the glimmer in their eyes fade, their crow's feet deepening just that little tell-tale bit more.

She slapped Doyle's hand away. "Stop it. You know what you're doing to them."

Doyle honked in raucous laughter. "Oh, I see you've met my amusing wife-to-be, the spring nymph. Though I expect you knew that right away, didn't you?"

Clarabella rose to pull Neil and Laura into a group hug, their bodies soaking energy from hers like the parched earth seeking rain. "I'm sorry this happened to you." She pulled away and kneeled to hug Lucy once more. "It was wonderful to meet you, Lucy. I hope to bump into you again real soon."

Doyle scoffed. "Once you've met one human, you've met them all."

Clarabella immediately withdrew from the embrace and grabbed a fistful of Doyle's sleeve, pulling him away. Once they were out of earshot from the family, she released him and seethed, "Why? Why were you so rude to them? What did they do to you?"

Doyle drew in a breath through his nose. "Serves them right. They obviously didn't recognize me. Or you." He brushed the backs of his fingertips against her jawbone, but she swatted him away. "How could they not have known who you are?"

Clarabella closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Without saying another word, she walked primly away from Doyle, toward her suite.

Doyle began speaking but she cut him off. "This time, don't follow me."

**Author's Note:** Ooh, some unplanned character development in this chapter, but it had to happen sometime! _Questions to the Readers:_ What did everyone think about Clarabella's journey today? First to Mrs. Claus, then to Bridgette, then to the reindeer and Lucy's family with Doyle. Do you have anything to say about how she acts without Jack around? Please leave a review! _Trivia Question:_ Complete this phrase, which Clarabella uses in this chapter: "Oh my _!"

Once again, I would just like to announce that I have finally _**enabled private messaging**_. I would love to hear from my readers anything they would like to say about my fanfiction: comments, questions, suggestions, ideas, opinions, anything! I look forward to hearing from you!


	7. This Keen Encounter of Our Wits

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** And at last the long awaited chapter. There is _much_ more Jack Frost in this chapter than the last one, never fear, readers! Please, please, _**please**_ tell me what you think of everything that happens in this chapter! Enjoy!

_Trivia Question Winners:_ Giana (Thanks for reading and reviewing!), Madame Jinxie (Welcome to this fanfic! I'm so happy to hear you're glad you gave this fanfic a chance; I try my best when creating characters and plots, and it seems to be going well so far, based on the reviews I've gotten. I'm so glad you like my OCs; they were a joy to create, and are so much fun to write and explore! Thanks for your feedback on Jack's IC-ness. I try really hard to keep him and all canon characters IC [and I do this by watching the movie more than I probably should. LOL]. Thanks so much for your wonderful review. I hope to hear your thoughts on this chapter! P.S. Would you mind letting me know in your next review whether you [honestly] do/don't like Clara and Jack as a potential couple and why/why not? I'd greatly appreciate it. :D), and Sexii-chan (The trivia question is for anyone who gets it right, not just the first reviewer to respond correctly. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!).

_Question to the Characters Winner:_ This chapter, it is… Madame Jinxie!

"Well, Madame Jinxie—do you mind if I call you Jinxie? I mean, since we're friends now and all—I would first like to welcome you aboard the most epic tale you will ever encounter—mine!" Jack's dimples deepened as he chuckled. He crossed his legs casually and leaned forward. "Now, then, for your question: are my powers all in the mind, emotion-based, or both? For me, they're all in the mind since, as you know, I am highly skilled and experienced in the art of winter.

"There are times, however," Jack shifted in his seat, "when very strong emotions may come into play and cause my powers to run away from me. For instance, that little incident with Clara when the snow melted off the roof," he said through gritted teeth. "But, it was merely a slip-up, nothing more, never fear.

"However, as for younger, inexperienced sprites, they encounter quite a bit of emotion-based power discharge because they are not yet trained or skilled enough to handle their powers like moi. So, as you can see, Jinxie, powers can be emotion- and mind-based. Thanks for the question."

**Publish Date: **Friday, October 28, 2011.

Why it Snows in Spring

Chapter Seven: This Keen Encounter of Our Wits

Clarabella pulled a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she placed the last of the ornaments on the pine tree. Smiling at her reflection in the sapphire orb, she fluffed her hair and stepped down from the stool, nudging it gently behind the tree with her foot.

She smoothed out the front of her dress, surveying the living room she'd decorated for this occasion. The pine tree—one she had grown herself in a massive ceramic pot—was dressed in festive ornaments and tinsel. A fire snapped and popped in the fireplace, made even more enchanting with color-changing crystals.

Clarabella crossed the room to the radio, where she turned down the instrumental holiday music playing until it was a low hum in the background.

Wringing her fingers nervously, she glanced up at the silver garland, snowflakes dangling at the ends of the strands. Candles placed throughout Clarabella's suite illuminated the room with soft orbs of golden light.

She approached her peridot green couch and plumped each of the pastel pink pillows in turn. As she was smoothing down the lovingly worn afghan folded neatly over the back, the doorbell rang to the tune of _Build Me Up Buttercup_.

Clarabella bolted upright immediately, hands instinctively smoothing down the front of her dress as she approached the mirror in quick, long strides. She stepped before the mirror, framed with gold rose vines, and combed through her hair with her fingers, feathering back on her own personal spring breeze. Her peekaboo highlights couldn't settle between pink or orange in excited anticipation, and so became a blend of the two, a creamy sherbet color.

The doorbell rang again, and Clarabella called over her shoulder, "Just a raindrop!" She quickly turned before the mirror, the mandatory 360 before inviting company inside, making sure the dress she wore hugged her flatteringly.

With a secret giggle, she skipped to the door, high heels clicking along the way, and threw it open with no hesitation.

"Jack!" Clarabella excitedly greeted the winter sprite, throwing herself into him for a hug. "Thank you so much for coming! Especially after your first few days of work!"

Jack stumbled backward with the force of the embrace and chuckled. He rubbed a hand up along her bare spine, his fingers—frozen solid from the almost constant use of his magic to begin wintertime—prickling pleasantly from the warmth of her back.

This was infinitely better than looking at all the Christmas decorations humans had put up in honor of the Red Man and his holiday, as he had been doing for the last few days in the human realm. Lawn lights. Dancing Santa figures. Christmas trees. If Jack saw just one more Christmas tree, he swore to himself he was going to send it crashing down.

And Jack was a sprite of his word.

"Well, hello yourself, Clara." His grip tightened on the blonde, and Clarabella felt something cool and hard in Jack's grip press into the small of her back. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Clarabella pulled back to step outside her door and gesture him in.

"I would never dream of entering before a nymph, my dear." Jack bowed low, raising an arm to the door.

Clarabella bounced once in place. "Well, if you insist." She trounced into the entryway. Please, let me have your jacket." Without waiting for him to offer it to her, she stepped behind him and slid it down his arms.

Jack's gaze followed her and, in the light of the entryway, he could see her dress clearly. Instantly, his eyes caught on the color of the dress.

Rich blue.

The way his color looked on the spring nymph made Jack grateful he had been pleasantly diverted while he had been away, otherwise all the snow on Clarabella's roof would have slid off in a miniature avalanche…

The winter sprite smirked clandestinely to himself. His travels during winter were certainly never boring, especially with the bountiful number of minor winter nymphs he had working for him, working the typical odds-and-ends jobs that minor sprites were often called on to do for a major sprite like him—freeze rivers, inspire flocks of birds to migrate, create patches of ice on sidewalks…

And of course, with bountiful nymphs came bountiful opportunities for Jack to… let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

And he'd let it snow plenty since the last time he saw Clarabella.

The way that dress was cut, however, would have completely undone all his hard work over the past few days. Her entire back was exposed to his gaze, and the skirt of her dress didn't twirl and float airily with her as she moved; it looked as if she had been sewn into it.

Clarabella turned from the closet, and Jack's eyes adhered themselves to the halter straps of the dress, sliding down the rouching over the plane of her stomach, and ending at the ruffled hem.

Thank hail he'd been so pleasantly diverted…

"May I just say, you are a vision in blue. May I ask what inspired you to wear my color?"

Clarabella rolled her eyes and corrected him. "It's not blue, silly; I don't wear the colors of the other seasons. It's African violet tourquois."

_Same thing._ "Well, you are exquisite in it." Jack winked.

"What do you have there, Jack?" Clarabella pointed to the bottle in his hand, and he held it up to show her with a dimple-filled grin.

"A little peppermint champagne, of course. 'Tis the holiday season, after all. And, of course, I remember very well that you said you enjoy the taste of peppermint." He presented the bottle to her, and she blushed.

"Oh, Jack, I can't believe you'd remember that!" She gushed, producing a bucket from a drawer and filling it with ice.

She turned to the stove when her kettle began screeching. "We'll save it for later. May I interest you in some home-made tea?" She stared at him over her shoulder, surveying the lackluster glint in his eyes. "You look exhausted from work. A little of my tea would perk you right up."

_One look at that dress perks me right up_. "That sounds delicious, Clara."

Clarabella plucked her satchel from within a fold in her dress, and began opening it up on the countertop.

"Let's see here, lemon to feel well-rested, cinnamon for energy… Jack, pick a flavor you like."

"Peppermint," he replied easily, gesturing to the champagne.

Clarabella giggled. "Right." She plucked out the selected ingredients and combined them all in a tea bag, dropping it into a tea cup. She reached around Jack to pour some of the kettle's steaming water, telling him, "There's already cream and sugar in the living room. Speaking of which…"

She handed the cup and saucer to Jack before moving behind him to cover his eyes with one hand. "I have a surprise for you!" She singsonged, pulling the ice bucket containing the champagne into her free arm.

"A surprise?" Jack inquired as she led him down a short hallway. "For me? Why, Clara, you shouldn't have!"

"Oh, but I wanted to do a little something for you." She guided him around the corner and through the doorway into her living room. "I just know you'll love it. I-I mean," she stepped in front of Jack, whose eyes were still closed, to set down the champagne on her coffee table and survey the magnificently decorated tree once more, "I _hope_ you'll like it."

Her hair momentarily flickered to a nervous lavender and she raised her hands, fingers separating like petals on a blooming flower. "Open your eyes."

Jack's blue eyes opened, and he gasped instantly, ready to put on a show of joy and praise the nymph, but the speech he had been preparing as he walked blindly down the corridor dissolved on his tongue as he took in the blue-and-silver décor; the pine tree had obviously been specially grown for the occasion, as azure branches jutted from the trunk to display an array of elegant ornaments shaped as orbs, icicles, and snowflakes. The fire sparked an array of blue tones: sapphire, cerulean, azure, aquamarine. Garland and hand-made paper snowflakes were strung from the ceiling, sparkling dully in the candlelight.

There wasn't a hint of red in the room, and the only green was Clarabella's furniture. This wasn't a Christmas celebration, this was…

"Merry Frostmas, Jack," Clarabella offered in an atypically quiet voice, cheeks ablaze and hands clasped nervously behind her back.

"You did all this… for me?" Jack inquired, walking toward the Frostmas tree and ghosting a hand over its pines.

Clarabella's eyes followed the winter sprite, anxiously watching for his reaction. Her hair shimmered light pink, complementing the blush that stained her face. "Of course. When you spoke about having your own holiday before, you seemed so…" Jack stopped and set his tea down on the mantle, gazing at the photographs there. "Well… I thought you deserved one for all your hard work, so…" She bounced lightly on her toes.

Jack silently observed the decorations, all in his colors, adorning the suite of the spring sprite. It must've taken her hours to decorate. A devious smirk split his face; even _he_ hadn't realized how much he'd had her.

The smirk melted back into a smile, one that Jack knew appeared modest and overcome with joy.

"Clara," he crooned, placing his hands to his heart before stretching his arms to her. "I am speechless." Her hair already began flickering between colors as he approached her. He gathered her into his cold embrace, pressed his lips chastely to her cheek, and murmured into her ear, "Thank you."

Clarabella shivered, and her hair firmly settled on orange as she folded her arms around him. "You're welcome! I'm honored to be spending the very first Frostmas with the mascot himself!" She chirped in his ear, goosebumps galloping down her arms.

Jack grinned broadly over her shoulder and plucked up one of her highlights between his fingers. Twirling it before him, his dimples deepened at the citrus hue before it faded away into sherbet once more.

Clarabella rubbed his back. "Oh, Jack!" She straightened and approached the mantle, retrieving the sprite's tea. "Please let me know what you think of my tea. I know I can't use my magic in it like usual because our powers don't work on each other, so it may not help you quite as much…"

"Clara," Jack drawled, waving a flippant hand at her. "You are too modest." He locked eyes with her and tipped the teacup to his lips and paused, eyes unblinking. He smiled up at Clarabella and nodded, and the nymph giggled and clapped her hands.

"Oh, I just _knew_ you'd like it!" She spun around to pick up her tea from the coffee table, and Jack instantly spat the tea back into the cup, sucking air through pursed lips as steam emanated from his tongue.

Clarabella continued twittering as she added a couple more spices to her drink, and Jack darted frantically back and forth behind her back to find the cream and sugar. He found some on a corner of the mantle, and hastily dumped all the cream into his drink, raising its level dangerously high in the cup. He slurped some, but then winced and dropped the liquid from his mouth once more; even though it was no longer scalding, it just didn't have that strong flavor that agreed with his cocoa-loving taste buds.

Jack froze when Clarabella stopped speaking, chancing a glance in her direction. She tipped her head back as she polished off half her tea, savored the last mouthful on her tongue, and swallowed. When she resumed her monologue once more, his hand darted to the other dish, grabbing handfuls of sugar cubes and dumping them into his drink.

Squinting, he slowly lowered the tip of his tongue to barely skim the surface of the sugary-creamy concoction, like a human dipping a toe into a pool to test it, and winced, immediately abandoning the contents of his teacup in the blue Frostmas tree.

"You know," Jack began in a voice three octaves higher than normal, cutting Clarabella off mid-thought and tugging on her arm to guide her to the beverage he brought, "I think it's about time we enjoy some of that champagne, yes? Allow me." He pulled the bottle from the bucket and unscrewed the cork. He retrieved two glasses hanging on the tree as ornaments and they frosted from his touch.

After pouring a glass for each of them, Jack raised his drink and declared, "A toast: to the start of a new holiday, to all the hard work you put into making it special," he swept his arm around the room, "and," his voice lowered, he stepped closer, "to enthralling company."

Clarabella's eyebrow arched at the flattery as she clinked her glass to his. "Here, here." She swallowed a sip of the bubbly drink, delighting in the way it tickled her nose. "Mmm! Jack, this is delicious!" The nymph tipped the glass to her lips again and polished off the rest of the drink. The winter sprite smirked through his glass at her obvious delight. Such beverages were quicker to affect sprites than humans.

"I've never had peppermint champagne before, not that I usually drink, anyway." Clarabella reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass. Jack lowered his drink, not even halfway through with it.

She began to sip at her second drink when the music changed to _Jingle Bell Rock_.

Forcing down her mouthful of champagne, she squealed, "I love this song! Oh, Jack, dance with me!" She threw her hands in the air and bopped to the beat, humming along with the tune.

Jack approached her, spun her around, and then dipped her in quick succession. He held her so low that her hair swept the floor as she giggled and slid a knee up to his hip.

The winter sprite smirked at her antics and kept her arched back as his free hand cupped her hip. "Luckily for you, I have been praised as a marvelous dancer. Tango." He sharply righted Clarabella and guided her backward before lacing his fingers through hers and following their joined hands. "Waltz." Jack turned them both slowly around the nymph's living room. "Belly dancing." He released her and clapped his hands over his head, gyrating his hips in quick thrusts that made Clarabella blush and giggle simultaneously.

He extended a hand, turning the spotlight on her. Clarabella held his gaze with an almost-chaste grin and began shimmying her hips, drawing out the undulations as she turned. His eyes trailed down her spine to her bottom, wriggling and weaving.

His eyes caught hers, and her lip wriggled between her teeth. _Tease_.

"And my current favorite, inspired by the youth of the human realm, of course…" Jack pulled her back to his front and his hips surged to the beat, pressed against the small of her back. Hooking his chin over her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Grinding."

Clarabella giggled again, softer this time, and he watched her hair warm to marigold tones, felt her hips move to the rhythm he set.

"So, Miss Bloom," he purred smoothly in her other ear, a grin in his voice, "what will it be?"

Miss Bloom. Soon she wouldn't be Miss Bloom anymore, she would be Mrs. Stark. For the rest of her immortal life.

For forever.

She stopped dancing, stepping idly away from Jack. "I guess I won't be hearing that name for much longer…" She finally murmured, resting a hand on the mantle of the fireplace and gazing unseeingly at the pictures there.

Jack's jaw ticked. He had been _so close_. Though Curtis's recent slip-up had provided him with the knowledge that he didn't need to charm Clarabella in this timeline, it provided him with the opportunity to beguile her with no consequences.

After all, if he had his way—and he _always_ did—tomorrow was the last day the world would exist on this timeline. No repercussions. No regrets.

Jack wouldn't lose this chance.

"Ah, yes. Mrs. Clarabella Stark does have a… _unique_ ring to it." He stood by her shoulder, slipping words into her ear. "And with a husband like Doyle, well, you'll be sure to lead quite an interesting life."

Clarabella released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I…" The words died in her throat. She licked her lips, building her momentum. "I don't want to marry Doyle."

He caught her lilac eyes over her shoulder. "Who do you want to marry, then?"

Clarabella's gaze didn't falter, and she craned her neck to look at him more fully. "Not Doyle."

Jack's frosted eyebrow arched, and he reached toward her but Clarabella turned to the mantle. "What do you think of my friends?" She asked quickly, gesturing to the framed photographs.

Jack blinked at the sudden turn of conversation, then lifted his eyes to the pictures of nymphs and sprites smiling and waving at the camera, performing magic in candid shots, and carrying pots of plants with signs pasted on the ceramic.

"Well… It certainly looks like they're all very close. Where are you in these pictures?"

Clarabella paused, her eyes focused on one picture in particular. "I was the one holding the camera."

Her fingers traced down the frame surrounding a picture of a solitary nymph smiling brightly into the camera with a potted plant in her hands. The nymph wore glasses with bulky, large frames that hid most of the upper half of her face. Her hair was wilted brown and obviously hadn't been cut in a long while. She had a gaunt and willowy frame, too thin to fill out the dirtied frock she wore.

Jack's eyes followed her line of sight. "_Who_ is _this_?" He practically exclaimed, pulling the picture down from the mantle and gawking at it. "Sprites are supposed to be very attractive, but her… Well, she's a far cry from you, Clara."

"She…" Clarabella began forcefully before twirling to meet Jack's gaze, whose face was still puzzled at the oddity photographed in his hands. "She was my friend," she finished quietly, eyes falling from his.

Jack's smile widened. "How generous of you to befriend such a homely nymph." His arm slipped over her shoulder as he replaced the picture on the mantle. "Then again, I'm sure being around her made you look all the more lovely."

Clarabella swallowed and turned away from him. Jack didn't notice.

"What's this?" He asked, drawing the nymph's attention to a photograph of many sprites carrying potted plants with small posters on them that read, "Give love, give life."

"This… is a campaign that is very near to my heart thanks to my former and current jobs. I, along with other sprites, believe that flowers should be given in pots so that they can live and grow, not in cut bouquets." Passion swelling, she turned to face Jack, "I find it against the point that people give the ones they love dying flowers as symbols of their feelings; why not give someone a living thing to demonstrate all that love embodies? Nurturing, trust, support, patience, respect; these are all things that love and my flowers need to survive. If humans want to use my work to demonstrate their affection, I'm very flattered, but they ought to do it correctly. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course." Jack's face solidified into a sober, thoughtful expression. "All your hard work should be cherished, Clara. Cherished and rewarded. In fact," he gathered her hands into his and pulled her away from the mantle onto a blank space of floor as the music slowed, "I'd like to thank you for all you've done for me tonight."

"Jack, it was nothing really." A white speck danced between them, and her eyes chased it down. When she looked back up, more were tumbling down, and more still. She raised her gaze to the ceiling, where an invisible cloud was snowing in the middle of her living room.

She laughed jovially, turning a hand palm-up to the cloud, she felt tiny pinpricks of cold touch her skin and fade.

"Oh, no," she fretted, retreating beyond the cloud's reach, gripping the snow-melting culprit by the wrist. "I'm sorry… I'll have to enjoy it from out here; I'm too warm."

Jack shook his head and moved to her, embracing her loosely in his arms; the snowfall followed. "No, my work is different. Your flowers are meant to grow and thrive until the cold months. My snowflakes were never alive to begin with. My work is meant to be only temporary—humans use it for snowball fights, catching snowflakes on their tongues, making snow cream, creating snow angels. My work was meant to be undone for the joy of humans. Please, Clara," he brushed back her hair behind her ear, "enjoy."

The radio sang out, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…"

Clarabella swallowed, feeling her throat close. Jack loved humans, too! His words sharply contrasted with Doyle's behavior toward Laura, Neil, and Lucy.

She closed the distance between them, butterfly tattoos congregating low on her stomach. "I don't want to marry Doyle."

Before she even finished her sentence, Clarabella caught the back of Jack's head and pulled him down to her, lips fusing with his in a chaste kiss.

She pulled back too soon for Jack's liking. Grin firmly in place and quip ready on his tongue, he drew in a breath to speak when he realized the eyes he was looking into, which he thought would be citrus-hued, were dahlia pink, as deep as the blush spreading across her cheeks.

Jack faltered for the briefest of moments, surveying her pink eyes, hair, and nails, giving Clarabella the chance to speak first. "Not Doyle." Her hands gripped into Jack's vest and she leaned heavily against him, drunk with longing. She planted her chin on his chest, gazing up at him. "Oh, Jack."

"Pink," Jack muttered to himself, fingers in her hair, dissecting blonde and pink curls, searching for any hint of brighter golden tones. "Why are you pink?"

"It's okay, right?" Clarabella's eyes widened. "I mean, I know we're both betrothed and all, and not to each other, but I definitely don't like Doyle, and you and Bridgette…" The nymph smirked and drawled mischievously, "Well, I get the feeling that you're not Bridgette's type." The side of her lip quirked up. "But you're _my_ type, Jack."

Suddenly the color of her hair didn't matter to Jack. He quirked his head, dimples deepening as his glittering gaze locked on hers. "Oh, really? And just what would make 'Old Man Winter' your type, Clara?" He stepped into her, pulling her wrist to his mouth.

"I'm sure you can guess," Clarabella murmured dismissively, leaning in once more, but Jack pressed a finger to her lips.

He faked a gasp. "Now, Clara, what kind of sprite do you think I am? I need to know your intentions before this goes any further." His voice was too innocent to be genuine, and the glint in his eye told her he was getting her back for all the times she teased him.

"You just want your already-engorged ego stroked!" She accused, bringing her face closer to his so she could gaze directly up at him.

"Stroke away, oh spring nymph." A silent challenge for her to rebel hung between the two.

She backed him up the last few paces into the wall, grabbing his face and asking in mock frustration, "Do you ever stop talking?" She tried to pull him down again, but he spun them around so she was pressed into the wall.

Clasping her wrists at her sides, he told her with a teasing lift to his voice, "I told you: stroke away, nymph." His lips scarcely brushed the sensitive pointed tip of her ear as he spoke, and Clarabella felt her knees buckle, heat pooling in her cheeks.

Breathless, she relented, "You're my type because you know exactly what you want and you go after it, you're passionate about your work, you're clever and funny… and most importantly, you love humans—kiss me!"

If there was one thing Jack couldn't resist, it was a nymph that begged. He instantly released her wrists and cupped her chin, adhering his lips to hers. Clarabella moaned and folded one arm around his neck, the fingers of her other hand clutching the soft velvet of his vest.

He drew her lower lip into his mouth and nipped tenderly. So that's what frost bite felt like! Clarabella whimpered and turned her face out of the kiss just enough to catch her breath.

Jack didn't let up; he planted open-mouthed kisses down her throat, pausing once to pull at a particularly sensitive spot.

Clarabella felt her temperature rise dangerously high, enough to rival Bridgette's season. "Oh, Jack."

"You know, Clara," Jack spoke between kisses, tugging her away from the wall and maneuvering them both onto the couch. "I would love to get acquainted with that ever-so-elusive green March butterfly of yours." Once they were situated on the cushions, he swept her long hair off the back of her neck and allowed his mouth to roam there.

Clarabella groaned, then giggled, gently pushing at Jack's shoulders. "Now, Jack, what kind of nymph do you think I am?" She echoed his earlier sentiments. He was moving to close the gap between them, so she quickly wedged a pink, overstuffed pillow between their bodies, scrunching her nose impishly.

He made short work of discarding the pillow and gripping her waist to his. As he curled kisses along the curve of her jaw, she chuckled and traced her hands up the lean muscles of his back. "Am I gonna have to make you sit on your hands?"

"Not if you do it for me." His deadpanned response was muffled against the curve of her throat, but it reached her ears and drew out a burst of laughter, nonetheless.

"Settle down, now, Jack," Clarabella said in a serious voice, guiding him away from her neck so she could look him in the eye. "We really don't need to rush things. Let's just…" She leaned toward him again, "take it slow.

"Like this." She entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her. Her lips melded with his, fluttering along them gently. His arms folded around her bare back, gripping into the heated silk of her flesh as he kissed her with surprising tenderness in return.

She broke off the kiss with a smacking sound. Pressing her forehead to his affectionately, she said quietly, "I'm talking to Doyle tomorrow; I'm telling him that I won't marry him."

Jack buried his fingers in Clarabella's hair. "And in the meantime?" To his credit, there was only a whisper of playfulness in his voice.

Clarabella smirked and rose silently from her seat. She strutted to the doorway, taking her time to make sure her hips swayed smoothly. Jack's eyes tracked Clarabella's every move, darting between each hip as it rolled.

Pausing in the doorway, Clarabella posed momentarily, wrapping a long leg around one side of the doorframe, before dashing down the hallway.

Jack immediately burst into a sprint, spurred by sprite instinct, jumping over the back of the couch to pursue her down the hallway. He caught the door just as she slipped through it, not even bothering to kick it shut behind him.

Clarabella's bedroom was dimly lit, with only faint flickering candlelight illuminating his pathway to her.

The nymph pressed herself back against the wall, arms behind her back, gazing up at Jack through her eyelashes. The only expression betraying her innocent façade was the slight quirk of her lip.

Jack gazed at the nymph across the room. He mimed sweeping his hand over his hair dashingly, making Clarabella giggle. He took a step toward her, his leg wriggling. The vibration caught his hips and torso, and he concocted a silly dance across the floor to her, knees together, body writhing like a length of gummy Christmas candy.

"What are you doing?" Even in the dark, Jack could tell she was grinning from the bouncy lilt of her voice.

Jack twirled once on tiptoe before crossing the small space left between himself and the nymph, hands pressing firmly against the wall on either side of her head.

"Sprite mating dance." Jack purred into her ear. A low rumble of giggles escaped her throat.

He blew a fine dust of frost against the exposed curve of her neck where it joined with her shoulder. She whimpered and gripped tightly into the collar of his button-down shirt, a couple fingers slipping beneath to his chilled flesh. He felt prickles of warmth exude from her fingertips, sending a minute thrill through the center of his body. He lowered his lips to the frosted patch on Clarabella's throat, nipping tenderly as she breathed his name to him.

In the poorly-lit room, Clarabella could've been any one of the number of nymphs he'd been with. Her reactions were even the same as all the rest: flirting, playing hard to get, and then finally succumbing. Nymphs were nymphs; they were teases (which Jack, admittedly, _loved_ for the challenge), but at the end of the day, the winter sprite always had his way.

The one thing that would make winning Clarabella even sweeter all those other nymphs, Jack knew as his mouth latched onto the freckle on her throat and his chilly fingers trailed up her legs, was that she was almost—_almost_—as clever as he. That she had put on a show of grinning, flirtatious eyes just as he had done with dimpled smirks. That she had turned the tables on him, made him forget himself, and then giggled when she got him to warm up just a little too much. That she had had just as sharp and quick a wit and tongue as he—the latter of which was currently displaying even further skill as it traced patterns so delectable down his neck it made his face turn blue.

Oh, yes, conquering Clarabella would be one of Jack's greatest achievements, second only, of course, to conquering Santa Claus.

Jack's hands had just smoothed over the ruffled silk of her skirt when he heard, "Unfortunately for you, Jack, mating season isn't until spring." Clarabella used a clear, sober voice as she spoke.

Jack's lips retracted from her throat, but he didn't move otherwise, scarcely believing his ears. This was a—highly unpleasant—first. "What did you say?"

Clarabella removed the winter sprite's prying fingers from her hips. "I already told you, Jack; I want to take things slowly." She paused for a moment, gazing solemnly up at him, candlelight reflecting in her eyes. Her hands slowly reached up to cradle his cheeks before gingerly brushing her lips against his. Her kiss was innocent and sweet, doing nothing to lower Jack's temperature.

It wasn't long before he tried to deepen the kiss, prompting Clarabella to gently push him away. "I mean it, Jack; I want to take this slow. I..." The spring nymph smiled bashfully and pulled a pink highlight behind her ear. "I like you. I don't want to ruin this."

Jack's jaw dropped. That was the exact line he'd used on nymphs after they'd yielded to his charms. And now _she_ was using it on _him_?

She held his gaze firmly for a long moment before drumming her fingertips on his chest and stating, "I think you should go; we can talk more tomorrow." She reached over and opened the door that led to her back porch. "I can tell you how it goes with Doyle, and…" she guided an astonished Jack through the doorway. Behind her, plants rustled in their pots along the walls of the corridor and on the floor. She leaned against the doorframe, looking up at him through thick eyelashes, still shy. "And… maybe we can spend the holiday together, if that's okay."

Oh, they'd be spending the holiday together, alright—in another time, in another place, as different people. But he didn't care about that right now.

"But… But Clara," he spread his arms wide, floundering, "you can't just stop this _now_; I'm _blue_!" He gestured to his face, which she could see in the porch light had deepened to an arctic hue. He tried to say something more, but every muscle in his body was so tense, so on edge with anticipation that he simply sputtered, and where he stood a multitude of snowflakes puffed once from the sky, landing on his mussed hair and shoulders.

Clarabella giggled. "You _are_ a vision in blue," she echoed his earlier sentiment, reaching behind her. A rosebush standing in the corner of the room passed Jack's jacket to her; the multitude of plants in her suite had maneuvered it from the closet to her bedroom as the two sprites spoke. The roses puckered their petals at Jack and blew kisses with their leaves before returning to their stationary state.

Stunned, Jack remained motionless as Clarabella draped his coat over his outstretched arm and pressed a final kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Jack," she whispered to him with a broad smile before shutting the door.

Jack could hear a squeal from behind it, and the click-clack of her heels as they disappeared down the corridor of her suite.

That tease! That merciless, insufferable little tease! No one said no to Jack Frost, _no one!_ He'd make sure he got what he was after—what he _deserved_—when he went back in time. He would triumph over Santa and Clarabella, and he would finally have his way. Forever.

Releasing a long trail of fog on an exhale, Jack shook his head quickly in a futile attempt to rid himself of this unsuccessful night. Turning sharply on his heel, he walked a few paces and then disappeared in a twirl of snowy wind, determined to find another diversion to make him forget his failure.

**Author's Note:** Well? What did you all think of this long-awaited chapter? I would love to hear everyone's thoughts in their next review!

_Trivia Question:_ What holiday does Clarabella decorate for and celebrate with Jack?

**NEW! Fanart Contest:** I would love to open up a fanart "contest" of sorts. Now, I use the term "contest" very loosely; there will be no actual judging. All I mean by this is for my readers to pick their favorite scene from the fanfic so far or one they would like to see occur and create some sort of fanart for it. PM me on my account if you're interested in taking part, and give me an idea of what you'd like to do. My DeviantArt username is on my profile; please feel free to friend me there! When you post your fanart on DeviantArt, message me so I know to favorite it so other readers see it. I would love to see a lot of participation with this! Rated mild T or lower only, please. :D Happy Fanart-ing!


	8. O, Do Not Slander Him, For He is Kind…

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note: **Happy holiday season, everyone! I particularly enjoy updating during this time of year. :)

I won't be answering a question to the characters in this chapter, but please keep the questions coming! I will select one to answer for the next chapter!

_Trivia Winners:_ The answer to the last trivia question was Frostmas. The winners are: Madame Jinxie (I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one, too. Please keep reading and reviewing!), ForeverACharmedOne (Holy cow, awesome review! Thanks so much for all your stellar feedback on this fanfiction; I really appreciate it. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter!), Possibly Impossible (Thanks so much for reviewing! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and hope you like reading this and future chapters! Please keep reading and reviewing!), mentalasylumpatient13 (Thanks so much for your review! Please keep reading and reviewing!).

Published: Friday, December 09, 2011.

Why it Snows in Spring

Chapter Eight: O, Do Not Slander Him, For He is Kind…

Clarabella approached the mirror in her living room and blew a cloud of steam onto its surface. She quickly set to work writing the name of the one person she wanted to speak with, the one person who would tell her what she needed to hear, needed to do…

Easter Bunny.

She quickly applied a fresh layer of carnation-pink lipstick and smooched the mirror once beneath the name she wrote. The steam evaporated on the mirror, taking with it Easter Bunny's name and her lipstick mark, her password for the magical communication system.

She stepped back and watched as the mirror's reflection of her living room faded and melted, reforming until Easter Bunny's workshop came into view. He sat at a basket of eggs, painting them one by one with careful precision.

Clarabella grinned broadly. "Eastie!" She fluttered both hands at him, overjoyed.

Easter Bunny glanced up from his work. "Clara? Clara!" He gently laid the egg he was working on down on a holder and bounded to his mirror. "It's been so long!"

"Too long!" Clarabella pouted.

"But look at you! Why, Clara, you look simply _divine_ in pink! The hair."

"Oh, go on."

"The eyes."

Clarabella flipped a hand at him playfully to stop, but batted her eyelashes at him to continue.

"And just look at that dress!"

"Oh, you stop that right now!" She spoke through a grin full of teeth.

"Oh, I will not." Easter Bunny's ears twitched back. "That dress looks like it was made for you, Clara." He gestured a paw at the pink, strapless cocktail dress that hugged her ribcage and flared out into a bubble skirt.

Clarabella gushed, "That's because it was! I hired a couple minor nymphs to make it for me not too long ago. Oh, Eastie, you know me too well!"

Clarabella hopped over to the mirror—her long-time tradition when first greeting him—and pressed her nose to the glass as Easter Bunny moved to do the same. They rubbed their noses back and forth together, breaking away after a moment to laugh.

"I've missed you, Eastie!" Clarabella exclaimed as she perched on the edge of her couch.

"I've missed you, too, Clara." He winked at her, causing her to grin. "Merry Christmas Eve. And seriously, you look amazing; the pink dress matching the pink hair, nails, and eyes, mm… you are a rose in a winter wonderland."

Clarabella sighed dreamily. "I know."

"And all that pink can only mean one thing: you and Doyle must really be hitting it off, eh?" Easter Bunny chuckled, and the expression froze on Clarabella's face. "So tell me, are there wedding bells in the near future? Oh! What's that?" He mimicked cupping a paw to his ear. "Do I hear the pitter patter of little Clara-and-Doyle bunnies scampering across my floor as I babysit?" He gave a chipper laugh and rubbed his palms together. "Clara, Clara, Clara, tell me _everything_!"

Clarabella blinked her eyes in rapid succession, adjusting in her seat on the couch. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she began, "Well, Eastie, that's kind of why I called—"

Easter Bunny's eyes widened and he sprang from his chair and moved as close to his mirror as he could to stare at Clarabella, nose wriggling feverishly. "Well, well, well! What have we here? No wonder why you're so pink today! It looks like you and Mr. Stark had a little rendezvous!" He threw his head back and laughed, pointing a furry digit at her neck.

Clarabella's eyes rounded in alarm, and she frantically searched the folds of her dress for a compact mirror. Snapping it open, she peered into her reflection, tilting her head this way and that until she finally discovered the cause of her friend's laughter; there, perched in the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, blossomed a dark purple mark.

Clarabella's cheeks flushed as she slowly lowered the mirror.

"And to think I was worried about how the two of you would get along, while this whole time you've practically been hopping down the aisle already!" Easter Bunny leaned toward her on his elbows, waggling his eyebrows. "So, Clara, is he a good kisser?"

Clarabella's eyes traced patterns into the rug as her heart raced so fast she could feel it pound in her fingertips.

"Jack."

She'd murmured the word so quietly, Easter Bunny was certain—and hoping—he'd misheard her. "What?"

Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. "It wasn't Doyle, Eastie… it was Jack."

Easter Bunny's ears tilted straight back in horror, mouth opening to reveal his elongated front teeth. "_Jack_ _Frost,_ Jack?"

Clarabella nodded, silent.

"No, no, no, no, no. Clara," Easter Bunny kneeled before the mirror, palms facing her in a soothing gesture. "Clara, listen to me. You just joined the Council; you don't know him. Not as well as I do, at least. Clara, he's not a nice guy; he sees something he wants and he finds a way to take it, no matter what it is."

"Eastie, Jack has been nothing but kind and sweet and…" Her cheeks flushed deeper in hue. "And… charming to me. If what you're saying is true… then, who knows? Maybe he's trying to change."

"Jack Frost will never change his ways. He's a fruit-killing, job-stealing, no-good—"

"'Job stealing'? Jack? Whose job has he stolen?"

"Well, he hasn't stolen a job _yet_, but he definitely has his eye on Santa's."

Clarabella planted her hands on her hips and sat up straight on the cushion. "Jack wouldn't do that; he loves his job! He just wishes he had a holiday to get a little more credit for his work. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that? Clara, Santa and I can just about keep up with our workload as it is for our holidays, and we only work one job! Having to prepare for heralding a season _and_ keeping up with the demands of a holiday wouldn't be practical, and Jack wouldn't be able to do his best with each one. And if he could only choose one job to excel at, I'd bet all my carrots that he'd choose to stick with the holiday, since it brings him more prestige. And that would mean turmoil for humans; the earth needs winter, and so do they.

"Besides, you shouldn't get involved with him anyhow; you need to stay with Doyle. You heard Mother Nature, she won't be happy if she finds you involved with the sprite of a season so close to yours."

Clarabella crossed her arms indignantly and scoffed. "Mother Nature won't _actually_ expel us from the Council and strip our powers, will she?"

Easter Bunny stared at her silently, his normally restless ears and nose stoic under Clarabella's hard gaze.

Thy nymph's solid expression melted, her lips slackening from their straight line and her eyes rounding from their previous slits. Her arms fell to her lap, fingers knotting together as her hands began shaking.

"Oh," she breathed on a shudder. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and soon she was bent over her lap, fingers caging her eyes, trying to catch her tears.

As she wept, she became vaguely aware of the couch cushion sagging under more weight. Fluffy arms encircling her shoulders broke through the barrier of her mind, and she realized that Easter Bunny had transported to her suite.

Without opening her eyes, she burrowed her head into his chest and nuzzled beyond the purple bow at his throat until she reached the downy, comforting fur beneath.

Easter Bunny rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I don't know what to do," Clarabella whimpered. Her arms wrapped tightly around her friend's furry body, squeezing him to her hard, as if she could escape the impossible decision ahead of her if she just didn't let him go.

"Shh, shh." He pecked her hair. "It'll all be okay."

"If I go with Doyle," shuddering breath, "I won't be ever happy," sob, "but I'll still have my job and I'll be able to work with humans, which _will_ make me happy." She pulled back just enough for him to see the eerily calm realization weigh down on her.

"I lose either way," she breathed in disbelief, eyes searching the rug for answers. "If I stay with Jack," she continued in a quiet murmur, "I'll lose my title, my job, and my powers, and then…"

Her calmness cracked and she leaned hard into his chest for comfort before tilting her face away enough to look into his eyes. "Oh, Eastie, I promised myself I'd never go back to that! I promised myself that things were better for me this way, with this job and these powers and… and…" She raised a hand to her mouth, and it trembled as her fingers brushed along her cupid's bow. "Jack likes me this way. If I don't stay like this… If I go back to the way I used to be… at my old job…" She groaned in despair and threw herself back into Easter Bunny's chest. "He might not like me anymore. Then it will all be for nothing."

Clarabella shivered. Her friend rubbed a paw firmly along her back to help soothe her.

"What would she do, Eastie?" Clarabella pointed at the mantle, to the picture of the bland nymph grinning widely out at the world. "What would Gert do? What would she have done in my position?"

Easter Bunny caged the blonde's face between his palms. "She would have done what she thought was best. You know it, and I know it." His gaze flicked between each of her eyes. "I can't tell you what to do, Clara; all I can tell you is that now you know my opinion, and I'll support you no matter what you do."

Clarabella sniffled and wiped her nose. She turned her tear-filled eyes to him and gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, Eastie." She pulled him close to her again for another tight hug. Pressing her lips against the fur of his cheek, she confided in a whisper, "You're the bestest best friend a nymph could ask for."

"That's me," Easter Bunny teased to lighten her mood. Clarabella giggled and pulled away from him once more, wiping tears from her eyes.

Lifting herself out of her friend's embrace and to her feet, she walked slowly to the mantle, approaching the brunette nymph's photograph. Her fingertips fluttered up to the top of the frame and slid down, trying to feel through the glass what the plain nymph would do.

"She's dead." Clarabella's lips moved of their own accord. She blinked hard when she realized that she'd spoken, and raised her voice so Easter Bunny could hear the words she'd kept buried in her mind for so long. "She's dead, and I'm alive. And it's all because of me."

Clarabella straightened her posture, determined. "I have to do what's right." She crossed the room, feeling Easter Bunny's eyes on her as she made a direct path to her telephone.

"Hello, Doyle?" She spoke into the receiver once he picked up. "It's me. Yes, yes, well… I've been busy the last couple days…" She cupped a hand over the mark on her neck, a physical reminder of just how busy she'd been. "Actually, I was—Doyle. Doyle. Doyle! Listen for a moment; I-I wanted to ask if you would… take a walk with me. Tonight. I…" She glanced at the Easter Bunny, holding his hopeful gaze as she spoke. "I was hoping I could talk to you. It's important."

Clarabella jerked the phone away from her ear at his shout of joy. "Yeah, well, don't get too excited," she muttered under her breath. Easter Bunny's ears lowered flat against the back of his head, lowering his gaze to the floor in disappointment.

She turned back to the wall the phone's cradle attached to. "I'll see you around nine-thirty-ish, then? Just near the carousel. Alright. Alright, bye."

Clarabella hung up the phone. When she swiveled around once more, Easter Bunny was gone, and the mirror had lost its enchantment.

.x:X:x.

Doyle was already waiting for Clarabella at the carousel when she arrived at precisely nine-thirty.

"Merry Christmas Eve! I've been waiting for you," Doyle whispered into her ear when he scooped her up into a hug. Yet another heart-wrenching mass of flowers dangled in his grasp before he pressed it into hers.

"I did say nine-thirty, didn't I?" Clarabella reached up to ensure the oversized scarf she had worn to cover Jack's mark hadn't been disturbed by Doyle's embrace.

Doyle grinned sheepishly, gazing down at her through his dark bangs. "I was hoping you would get here extra early so I could see you even sooner. Oh, but it's completely fine that you didn't, Clara; I wouldn't want to rush you or anything."

Clarabella granted him a half-smile. When he offered her his arm, she busied herself with flicking her fingers comfortingly over her dying flowers.

"Shall we, uh, shall we go for a walk, Doyle?" Clarabella began walking down the cobblestone path leading away from the carousel.

"Of course, of course." He caught up with her in only a few strides and gently placed a hand at the small of her back.

"I kind of wanted to talk to you about… something important…"

"Hey, did you hear about that Council meeting they just had a couple days ago?"

She paused for a moment, briefly confused by the non sequitor. "A Council meeting? Oh, allergies, I missed it!" Clarabella fretted, turning to face Doyle. "But… wait… I don't think I was ever told about a Council meeting…"

"That's just the thing." They stopped at a lamppost and he leaned against a railing, gazing across at the balcony leading out from Santa's workshop. "They didn't tell three of us seasonal heralds about it. On purpose."

"What? Why?" Clarabella's eyebrows furrowed and she stepped closer to Doyle than she normally would've liked. "Why would they exclude us from a Council meeting? That isn't fair!"

Doyle shrugged. "Don't know." He flicked a snowflake off his jacket. "Maybe they didn't want us protecting Jack. Pfft, not like I would've done that, anyway…"

"Protecting Jack? Why would Jack need protection?"

Doyle glanced around the empty street, making sure no one was outside to overhear them. "Alright, well, you didn't hear this from me; I'm not supposed to know as it is, none of us are: you, me, or Bridgette. Apparently, Jack went around cooling down places that should be warm: freezing volcanoes, snowing in Hawaii…" He held his hands apart in a 'wait 'til you hear this' gesture. "He even made it snow in the south so all the geese would fly north."

Clarabella tugged lightly on her scarf, lost in thought. "He… He did?" Her eyes descended down to the rocks.

"That's not even the worst of it!" Doyle grasped Clarabella by her upper arms, pulling her close so he could speak in an intimately low murmur. The nymph was so uncomfortably close that she could feel the last rays of warmth autumn offered before winter escaping his open black blazer. "Apparently, he placed well over two-hundred cardboard cutouts of himself at malls with the saying 'Merry Frostmas' on them. Clara," he gazed intently down at her, nose-to-nose, "Jack's trying to take over Christmas."

Clarabella looked into each of Doyle's eyes, trying to find any ray of dishonesty within them. She gripped her flowers tightly for comfort, hoping that he'd reveal a lie, but it never came.

Doyle was telling the truth.

Clarabella slouched heavily against the lamppost, reaching for her throat again. How could he do this? _Why _would he do this when he had one of the best jobs in the world?

How could Jack do something like this when things were falling into place for them?

No. Everyone else was very obviously against Jack, and it wasn't fair to be so outnumbered, to be cornered when all he wanted was some recognition for his work. Certainly this wasn't the way he should be trying to attain it, but with his obvious frustration at having been denied a holiday for himself for so long, could anyone blame him for his drastic demonstrations? Clarabella knew all too well what it was like to feel excluded, when no one else understood. She had to be the one to stand up for Jack when no one else would.

Maybe he'd fall for the part of her that adored him even if he couldn't feel affection for her as a minor nymph…

"I was hoping you'd do that." Doyle clasped his hands delightedly in front of him and glanced up at a sprig of mistletoe tied to the lamppost. He approached her, though she was still lost in thought, and cupped her jaw in his hands. "To us, Clara; to a holiday season neither of us will ever forget. To the start of a lasting courtship, and…" He reached up and touched the calloused pad of his thumb to the apple of her cheek. "And… to true love." His face approached hers, and he whispered, "May I, m'lady?"

Clarabella blinked hard at the sight of the tall autumn sprite closing in on her.

"No," she bit out determinedly, throwing her flowers back into his arms. She began walking into him, forcing him to retreat away from her. "How dare you and everyone else claim that the Council is all about reaching out and supporting one another when you all turn your backs on Jack even though he's just trying to get a little credit for all his years of hard work? How dare you try to drag me into this, too? In fact, I not only support Jack, I…"

The words caught in her throat for the briefest of moments. _This is it_, she thought. _I would rather risk it all for a chance at happiness… Gert would be proud._

"Doyle, what I wanted to tell you out here was… I don't want to mar—"

"What's _that_?" Doyle pointed across the way at the balcony, where Santa and Jack stood. Santa held something in his hands, and from that something sprang forth spirals of gold magic. Jack grinned wickedly at Santa and grabbed onto his shoulders tightly.

The world around Clarabella dissolved and faded away. When her life reformed around her, she had no memory of that night or who she had been. She was… _different_.

**Author's Note:** We're finally at the time warp! (I say "finally" because I've had the next chapter written for quite some time now. It only needs some tweaking, but it should be posted shortly after this one. Yay!) What does everything think about this chapter? What are everyone's predictions for the next chapter? I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback in your next review! :)

_Trivia Question:_ What's the name of the nymph whose picture rests on Clarabella's mantle?


	9. …Right, as Snow in Harvest

**Disclaimer:** _The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause_ and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create _The Santa Clause_ trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of _The Santa Clause_ trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

**Author's Note:** Finally! The long-awaited time jump chapter! Long-awaited to me, at least. LOL Anywho, I hope everyone had a great holiday. Happy New Year! :)

_Question to the Characters:_ The winner is… Madame Jinxie! Thanks for the question! For the sake of time, I'm going to answer this chapter's question just in dialogue. It should be fun trying to figure out who's who out of the four sprites. :P The question is: What are human activities that you enjoy doing?

"Ooh, ooh, oooooooooh, I _love_ this question! I already know what I want to say—"

"I… I don't, erm… really have any favorite human pastimes… humans are… eh…"

"…Right… So, anyway, as I was saying—"

"Please allow me to get this over with so I can continue practicing my craft. I—"

"Aw, Bridg, you're just being shy!"

"Yeah, _Bridg_, you're not used to all this fanmail like moi!"

"It's Bridgette. And this is irrelevant to my point. To answer your query, Madame Jinxie, I would say that my favorite human pastime is beach volleyball. On the rare occasion I am able to interact with humans, it is quite an invigorating activity."

"Oooh, that's a great one, Bridg!"

"It's Bridgette!"

"Jinxie, if I may, my favorite human activity, again, on the rare occasion I am able to interact with humans, as Frigid Bridgette once mentioned—"

"Blue boy."

"Hot head."

"Ice-for-brains."

"Redhead."

"Sapphire shrimp. …And did you just use my hair color as an insult?"

"To get to the point, I quite enjoy the art of creating snow and ice sculptures. Especially when I inevitably win contests against humans."

"Is there no low that you won't stoop to?"

"My turn! Alright, so I have this dream that when I get married…"

"Are you discussing our wedding? Please go on."

"…On second thought, you'll just have to keep reading to find out about that. Thanks for the question!"

_Trivia Question Winners_: The answer to the last trivia question was Gert! The winners are: TheSlytherinWolf (Thank you for your feedback. Please keep reading and reviewing! :) ), Mentalasylumpatient13 (Thank you for your support. Please keep reading and reviewing!), SuprSingr (Wow! Thanks so much for the amazing review! I really appreciate your support. I'm glad you like Jack and Clara so much; I quite like them, myself. :P I can't wait to read your review for this chapter! :) ), and ForeverACharmedOne (As usual, I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on the last chapter. I like the connections that you drew between the characters—thanks for mentioning that you noticed them in your review! I hope you like this chapter. I can't wait to read your review. :) ). Honorary Winner: Trekkie101 (Ok, ok, so you didn't technically answer the trivia question in your review, but all things considered, I'm sure you know the answer. ;) Thanks for all your support! And by the way, there's no excuse not to leave a nice, long review from now on—you're not around to read my chapters before I post them, now. :P LOL! Please keep reading and reviewing!)

**Publish Date:** Thursday, December 29, 2011.

_**Why it Snows in Spring**_

Chapter Nine: …Right, as Snow in Harvest

Jack dodged the flying plush reindeer as it whizzed past him, narrowly missing his now-white hair.

"Hey, watch it! That one has a diamond-encrusted collar—it was expensive! And watch the hair—I have a show soon." His hands rose to ensure his appearance's perfection.

"I don't care!" Clarabella growled in tears as she picked up her next bit of ammunition—a Santa plushie with sapphires for eyes and rubies embedded in its cheeks. "Why won't you marry me?" She catapulted the toy at Jack, who caught it firmly with a smug grin. Frustrated, she thrust herself at him and beat her fists into his chest, which had long since lost its firmness when he completed his transformation into the Christmas mascot.

"Are you embarrassed of me? Don't you want people to know about us?" She screeched.

"Sweetheart, darling, baby—_Princess_!" Jack soothed the nymph sobbing in his arms. "How could you ever think that? I lavish you with gifts day in and day out, I buy you the clothes you want on a whim, and I shower you with jewelry. You know how I feel about you, gorgeous." His words were saccharine as honey to her and equally thick and sticky, molding her mind the way he wanted. He pressed his forehead against hers and tried to meet her gaze as he lulled her back into his spider web of soothing, sickeningly sweet lies—her only comfort for the past twelve years. But even false comfort was better than none at all.

"I want to show you off to the world, my dear, so all may know you're mine." That earned him an immediate lapse in weeping, and even a curious peek up at him from his chest.

"Besides," he began with the sly grin that always melted Clarabella's heart and sent jitters spiraling through her body, "Mrs. Clarabella Claus has a lovely ring to it, don't you agree?"

Clarabella pouted sternly. "My would-be name might have a lovely ring, but I certainly don't." She raised her left hand and wriggled her naked ring finger pointedly—a constant depressing reminder to her for the last decade.

"Besides, you always say that, but then you never follow through."

"Well, who knows? It's Christmas, a time of miracles—and I'm head cheese around here in that department." He slowly rubbed his chilly fingers up and down her arms, spreading goosebumps in their wake.

"Well, you may be the head cheese in delivering Christmas miracles to everyone else, but certainly not to me." She detached herself from him and kicked through all the scattered stuffed animals and jewelry and clothing she had thrown at him in the midst of one of her increasingly frequent tantrums. He had spoiled her, he knew, but it was the only way he could make her believe that he was as in love with her as she was with him… at least, the only way he could do so without actually returning the sentiment. Even though he was Santa Claus now, he was still Jack Frost, too, and his heart was as icy as ever.

He made sure of that.

She crossed her arms as she stood before her silver floor-length mirror. She was wearing the short blue dress he had presented to her the night before. He had given it to her because she screeched at him for refusing her a part in his show—again. He had soothed her by telling her that she was too gorgeous to be put on stage, and gave her the elaborate dress to prove it. What he'd told her had made no sense, but it was what she wanted to hear.

Jack walked smoothly to her so his plump front was pressing against her lean back. That was something that had changed once he had become Santa Claus—he gained plenty of weight. Not to mention the fact that his hair spiked out from his head in an array of white shoots. At first, the spring sprite was certain that his looks were not worthy of someone like her, but… in the end, he had charmed her quite easily into his pudgy arms—the very same arms which slid around her slim waist now. If ever he had been appreciative of anything, it was that she had not changed in the same expansive way he had.

"No. I'm still mad at you." Clarabella's mirror image pouted prominently at Jack, her crossed arms tightened against her chest.

"Aw, do I sense a pout?" Jack drawled silkily into her pointed ear. Clarabella did not dignify his question with a response; rather, she turned her head away from him. Jack took the opportunity to brush a feather-light kiss just beneath her ear. His chilled lips left the spot to tingling pleasantly, and she shivered at the sensation. Her tense body loosened in his arms. Perfect.

"Come now, precious, you know you're more important to me than all that." _In a little while, you'll find out just how important you are,_ he thought to himself with a grin.

"Why won't you marry me? And why won't you put me in your show? Half the elves out there can't even dance, and none are nearly as beautiful as me, yet you put them out there night after night," she grumbled, still refusing to meet his blue gaze.

"Now, now, my little nymph, I've already told you—a man who has a girl as beautiful as you should keep her from the prying eyes of other men, lest he grow envious. You're not the kind of nymph who wants her own numero uno to get jealous over her, are you?"

Clarabella arched a perfectly shaped brow, interest piqued.

Jack grinned at her.

"Who's my elf?" He stroked her jaw line affectionately.

Clarabella rolled her eyes at their long-term game. "I am," she admitted after a brief hesitation.

"Who's the little sugarplum dancing in my head?" He grabbed her arm and swiftly twirled her once before dipping her low.

She squealed and giggled loudly as her blonde locks swept the floor. "I am."

Lifting her back up, Jack continued in a singsong voice, "And who's gonna forgive me if I give you expensive things?"

Clarabella gasped and squealed again, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She catapulted herself at Jack and gripped him in a tight embrace. "Oh, Jack! Of course I forgive you! Now gimme!"

Jack smirked and held up one finger before dashing from the room to a secret closet where he kept a healthy stash of appeasement presents. He returned with a red piece of clothing draped over one arm and a blue velvet box in his hand.

Clarabella screeched with excitement and outstretched her arms to him.

"For you, my little elf." He flicked his wrist and allowed the long, elegant crimson cloak to unfold to the ground. It was made of luxurious silk and had fluffy white trimming at the collar, hem, and sleeves.

"_Oh!_" Clarabella gasped in anticipation, her fingers twitching with excitement as she approached the beautifully crafted cloak. She carefully took it from him, handling it as if it were made of tissue paper.

She turned and pressed it against herself as she gazed longingly into the mirror, picking up the skirt and pulling it wide in front of her.

"Well? What do you think? Can my little Jingle-Bella forgive me?" Clarabella slyly covered her mouth with the collar of the robe and gazed up at him mischievously. With a grin at her cue, he added knowingly, "May I remind you that you look dazzlingly breathtaking in red?"

Clarabella scoffed amusedly. "I know!" She pulled the long robe onto her form and tied it at the waist.

Jack gasped dramatically. "Well, look at you, gorgeous!"

She batted her eyelashes up at him, ego flattered. Catching sight of the box in his hand, she danced on her tiptoes. "Ooh, more diamonds?" He grinned at her, and she spread her arms out in response and proclaimed, "Frost me!"

Jack made her shut her eyes while he arranged the necklace around her throat. The gaudy diamond layers formed a triangle that pointed down and glittered obscenely in the light of the suite.

When she finally opened her eyes, Clarabella let forth a high-pitched squeal to rival that of an opera singer, and annoyed Jack's hypersensitive sprite ears just as much.

She turned in his arms and swallowed him in a massive hug. The spring sprite touched her necklace one more time before hopping onto him, his arms supporting her as her mouth found his in a long, passionate kiss.

Pulling away, she declared as she had so many times before in the throes of expensive-gift-receiving bliss, "I _love_ you, Jack."

And, as he had done so many times before, Jack pulled her in for another fiery kiss, allowing the ambiguity of his actions to make her believe the words his lips denied her oh-so willing ears.

Jack backed the euphoric nymph up against the wall beside the bed they shared. Clarabella groaned at the feel of the cold wall and her cold boyfriend encasing her from all sides and snagged his lower lip with her teeth.

Jack growled and yanked on her hair, forcing her head back. "Biting, Miss Bloom? That will land you on the naughty list permanently."

Clarabella smirked wickedly at Jack, blue eyes glinting fiendishly. Her fingers ruffled affectionately through his spiky white hair as she purred languidly to him, "As long as I'm at the very top."

Jack crashed his lips against hers in a filthy, fast kiss that left Clarabella whimpering. Pulling back as suddenly as he attacked, he accused, "You've been a very bad girl, Clara, throwing fits like that at me, _me_, of all people: the love of your life."

Panting, Clarabella rose to the bait. "Very, very bad, Jack. I'm so sorry." Her knees tightened around his hips, gripping him in an even closer embrace. "Let me make it up to you?" Her hand slid up his pudgy torso and slipped beneath his blue scarf until she felt his piercing cold chest beneath her fingertips. "Please?"

Jack smirked in triumph; he had her begging to apologize. "I can think of a few ways you can—"

A knock on the door preceded Curtis popping his head into the room.

With a dangerous growl, Jack turned away from the nymph and roared at the intruding elf. "This had better be important! I'm in the middle of something here!" His fingers gripped so tightly into Clarabella's legs, Curtis could see indents in her skin.

Clarabella's eyebrow arched. Although she remained silent, she conveyed every mental image of torture imaginable to the disdainful creature that dared interrupt her moment with Jack. She had every intention of acting on said torture, too, if he didn't skedaddle in three, two…

Curtis drearily announced, "Sir, the line of children waiting to sit on your lap is already past the reindeer petting zoo." The elves were all—unfortunately—more than used to the daily tantrums Clarabella threw, the gifts Jack wielded to appease her, and their overly dramatic displays of affection when they made up.

Jack immediately dropped the nymph in his arms onto their bed. "My public!" He swept his arm broadly and Curtis immediately left the room, closing the door behind him.

Clarabella glared up at him unappreciatively and was about to grumble a protest at being forgotten so readily when she remembered the disgustingly expensive presents she had just received and contented herself with ogling them.

"My public awaits, my little elf." Jack patted the nymph on the cheek before approaching his vanity and plopping heavily into the seat, pointedly looking at her to be pampered.

Clarabella rose to help Jack with his appearance, which he had grown increasingly picky about. Since he had to perform his musical number after listening to what presents the children wanted for Christmas, she pancaked his face to eliminate any shiny spots. Then, she carefully took his red coat from a nearby hook and eased it onto him tenderly, buckling the belt from her place behind him.

When she was finished, Clarabella wrapped her arms around Jack's shoulders and planted a peck to his cheek, humming an all-too-familiar tune. "...Santa, baby, and hurry down my chimney tonight." She nipped the tip of his ear and he jerked suddenly in her arms, feeling goosebumps stampede down his body at the thought.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered tenderly into his ear.

Jack cleared his throat loudly and, patting her hand, told her, "My people are waiting for me, Clara. But be sure to watch my show from backstage tonight." The right side of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin as her eyebrows arched curiously at his request. "I have something for you: the surprise to end all surprises."

.x:X:x.

"Move it, lady," Clarabella growled as she shoved aside a woman wolfing down one of the North Pole's famous gingerbread cookies. The woman squawked around the sugary treat and the nymph halted. Turning haughtily in place, she blinked hard at the woman and snapped, "Think about trying the fat-free cookies next time. Seriously. It's no wonder you were in my way; you take up half the workshop!"

With a satisfied smirk at the woman's look of equal parts hurt and horror, she twirled and, with a ripple of her cloak, strode away toward the reindeer petting zoo, where parents were paying to allow their children to shave the animals.

"Ooh, Vixen." Clarabella sucked air in through her teeth in mock sympathy as the reindeer bleated in despair at her ruined fur coat. Vixen turned to glare at the nymph with hot tears in her eyes.

"You know, that really is too bad." She leaned against the metal bars restricting the reindeer into a small corner of the workshop and checked her nails flippantly. "Jack's making sure it's in the low, low, _low_ negatives tonight, and you're all sleeping outside. Hope you can find some way of staying warm."

Grabbing a matted ball of fur from the ground, she rubbed it against her cheek and grinned. "Oh, yeah, that would've done the trick." On the last word, she threw it at the reindeer's face and walked off, leaving Vixen at the mercy of the increasing number of children who were buying their time with shavers.

As she continued on her way to the far side of the workshop, she encountered a young child spilling crocodile tears down his cheeks, straining to reach the last of the teddy bears wearing a Santa hat. The toy sat tantalizingly just beyond his reach.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Clarabella cooed, dropping to her knees before the child, who was sniffling back a sob. "Would you like that bear?"

Wiping his nose, he gave a watery smile and nodded shyly. "Yes, pwease, missus."

Clarabella scrunched her nose sweetly at the boy and reached up, easily plucking the stuffed animal from the shelf and extending her arm to him. The boy clapped his hands in excitement and reached out to retrieve the present.

Clarabella's fingers strangled the bear's neck as her free hand ripped the head off. Stuffing poured from the gaping hole in its neck while the head rolled on the floor.

The boy's eyes widened in horror and his sobbing began anew. Rubbing his eyes as new tears sprang forth, he wailed and clamored away from Clarabella, escaping into the knot of people bickering with each other over their places in line.

"Aw. I thought you wanted it. Oh well."

She tossed the toy at the nearest elf, growling, "That stitching is weak and very poor quality. Fix it or I'll have you fired."

The elf scrambled to catch the toy and explain himself. "B-But I make scooters, not teddy—"

"Don't you _dare_ talk back to me!" She rounded on him, yanking on his ear and speaking through gritted teeth. "Fix it or don't bother coming back."

Tossing the elf aside, she finished her journey to the far end of the workshop.

"You." She pressed through the pitiful number of children lined up to watch Easter Bunny paint candy canes. Glancing at his half-full basket of the treats, she planted her hands on her hips and spoke dangerously low.

"I thought Jack and I told you when we bought you out that if we didn't see you meeting your quota, we'd turn you out. _You're_ the one who came to _us_, remember?" Easter Bunny, pretending to be too focused on his work, still didn't meet her eyes. She yanked him by the bow until his nose, twitching nervously at his boss's girlfriend's close proximity, was touching hers.

"_Remember?_ We became so popular," she faked a sob, batting her eyes for show, "that _you_ ran out of business. _You_ ran out of work. _We_ were generous enough to _give_ you work. _Now why aren't you working faster?_"She screeched directly into his sensitive ears, and he howled in pain, wincing.

"If you don't start giving me numbers, Easter Bunny, I'll cut off your paws myself and wear them for good luck." He whimpered and gazed up at her in stunned silence, eyes wide in fright. "Your ears I'll make into a headpiece for Halloween." She scoffed. "Like anyone celebrates that anymore; Christmas isthe _only_ holiday of importance, after all. And your cotton tail I'll use to apply my foundation with. Am I clear?"

Easter Bunny nodded his head feverishly, desperate to return to painting candy canes. "Yes, Miss Bloom."

"Grab your tickets! The show is about to begin."

Clarabella tilted her head at the elf's voice over the loud speaker. Shoving the large rabbit onto the ground, she muttered, "I'll check on your numbers after the show." Pushing her way through the stunned children, she made her way to the stage to watch Jack's show.

.x:X:x.

Clarabella had been proudly watching from offstage as Jack performed and musing how much the audience loved him when suddenly a man swung onto the stage on a rope a la Tarzan and knocked Jack into a pile of presents.

The elves near her snickered and muttered that, finally, someone was giving Jack what was coming to him.

Clarabella immediately snapped to attention. How dare that man interrupt her Saint Knick-Knacks's phenomenal show? And right when the audience was applauding for him, too!

She furiously spun to the elves in fury and, catching two of them by their ears, tossed them out onto the stage and hissed, "Do something! Stop that man! He's ruining Jack's show!"

The stage manager, an elf girl with a headset on, asked, "Why don't _you_ go help Santa?"

The spring sprite scoffed at the notion, running her hands arrogantly down the furry collar of her new robe. "Who was talking to you, bite-sized?" After a pause, she replied, "Pfft, _please_, and be humiliated out there in front of all those people? I don't think so!"

She laughed when the man climbed on top of the prop gingerbread house and fell through the roof. "Idiot," she purred wickedly into her collar as she drew it up around her jaw. After a moment, she added to herself, "Ah, good, security's handling him."

She watched as the security guards subdued the man so that he was merely talking with Jack. How did Jack know him when she did not?

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a red-headed girl throwing something to Jack. She screeched when she realized with a jolt of horror that it was his snow globe, and slumped onto the nearest elf for support, suddenly feeling lightheaded. As the snow globe tumbled through the air, she watched her life flash before her eyes: the snow globe crashing onto the ground; Jack not being Santa anymore; Jack forevermore unable to spoil her; the jewelry, clothes, and other expensive presents all flying out the window; and worst of all—her Criss-Cross Kringle would no longer be in power.

"Jack, catch it!" Clarabella whimpered, one hand flying up to her mouth while the other clutched her chest, as if trying to still her hammering heart.

The snow globe landed perfectly in Jack's hands, and Clarabella sank to the floor from the flood of relief washing over her.

"I think I'm gonna faint," she panted as her eyes fluttered shut, relieved that their power had been secured.

The elves' hearts fell in disappointment and frustration; their freedom had been so near, but had fallen out of their grasp as soon as the snow globe had slid into Jack's.

Clarabella watched as the man pulled from his jacket one of the recording candy pens and clicked it.

"I wish I'd never been—" It sounded out before Jack ripped the toy from the man and snapped it in half with a triumphant laugh.

"Oh, Scott," Jack sighed dramatically and leered cruelly down at him. He repeated the words he had heard from the ex-Claus so many times before: "Why don't you let it go?"

He handed the remains of the broken pen to the nearest elf, ordering her to dispose of it. Stepping up to Scott, whose face crumpled and fell, he hissed, "Why don't you just let all of this go?" he gestured broadly, indicating the North Pole. "Because you'll never see any of it again. Security," he raised his voice to speak to instruct the guards standing behind Scott, "see to it that this man never steps foot in the North Pole Resort again." Scott staggered back in horror—he had failed all the children of the world. Christmas would never be the same again.

The security guards seized Scott by the arms and were pulling him away when Jack added, "Wait!" They halted, and Scott could scarcely raise his eyes to meet Jack's triumphant gaze—what more could he possibly do to him? His life was already ruined. There was nothing left for Jack to take away.

"You still have to watch the grand finale." Jack discreetly glanced at the clock—almost midnight. Good. "It's a real show-stopping number."

Turning to face the nymph offstage—who had been sending elves every which way to fetch her cool water, fans, and shiny jewelry from her suite to make her feel better after the snow globe scare—he extended his arms and called out, "Clara, won't you join me on stage for your moment of fame?"

This declaration was an immediate remedy to her ailment and, after taking a moment to ensure that her hair and clothes were arranged just so, she strutted on stage with a wide, graceful sweep of her arms to the audience, who applauded her entrance.

After stopping halfway to Jack to dip in an embellished curtsey, she turned and hopped jovially the rest of the way to her beloved, and catapulted herself into his arms, giggling in excitement.

"Oh, darling, I knew you'd put me in your show!" She breathed enthusiastically into his ear. He couldn't remember any other time she had hugged him so tightly.

"Oh, I'm going to do more than that, Clara." He turned to show her off to Scott, whose eyes narrowed as he barely recognized the spring sprite.

"_Clarabella_?" He asked in shock, realizing that Jack had certainly left his mark on her: except for the robe, everything about her was blue—her dress, her eye shadow, and even her eyes, nails, and the streaks of color in her hair had shed their warm tones in favor of arctic ones. Her usually twinkling eyes were now as cold and empty as Jack's, and her complexion just as pale. "What… What happened to _you_?"

Clarabella shoved an elf standing between her and the man out of the way to get a closer look at him. "How do you know me?" She frowned in disapproval and pointed out to Jack, "Do you realize that this man got to be in your show before _me_? And _he_ isn't even that nice to look at. At all." She scowled in disgust and returned to Jack's side, running a hand down her diamonds for comfort.

Scott's eyes roamed over the accessories adorning the sprite, noticing the obviously expensive jewelry and clothing she wore. He stood still with his mouth agape, startled by the change in the spring nymph's usually warm nature.

"I see you've noticed my fantabulous gifts." Clarabella indicated the presents nonchalantly before encircling Jack's neck with her arms. "I got them from my wonderful Jack-in-the-Box." She made a show of kissing him on passionately on the lips and continued, "He buys me whatever I want."

"Frost, what have you done to her? This isn't Clarabella, this is a spoiled sprite! A narcissistic nymph!" Scott exclaimed. The security guards shook him once to silence him.

Her eyes flared dangerously. "'Spoiled'? 'Narcissistic'? How _dare_ you!" She unwound herself from Jack to close the gap between herself and the stranger who insulted her so, but Jack caught her around the waist and held her fast.

"Clara," he whispered urgently in her ear, eyeing the clock, "remember before how I told you I had a surprise for you that would end all surprises?" Clarabella stopped struggling and turned to look at him over her shoulder, listening intently. He grinned down at her. "Prepare yourself for the best Christmas ever."

"Ooh!" She squealed and turned to face him expectantly, instantly losing all interest in retaliating against the rude human.

Jack leaned down to murmur to Scott while Clarabella primped, ecstatic and eager for her surprise, "I believe you may recall the Mrs. Clause?" He chuckled deviously, a lion's rumble that stirred from low in his throat.

As Jack turned toward Clarabella, Scott saw his chance and cried out desperately, "Clarabella, no! Don't—"

Jack snapped his fingers and one of the security guards clamped an iron hand over Scott's mouth, effectively muffling him. Nothing would ruin this moment for Jack.

He took Clarabella's hand and led her downstage, closer to the audience. The spotlight followed them as they made their way to center stage.

"Clarabella Bloom." Her name fell from his lips as if it were silk. He kissed her hands once and slid down onto one knee, reaching into his pocket.

Clarabella gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth as her heart began pounding in her chest again. Could this really be happening after all these years? A low murmur of excitement rose from the audience, and the sprite turned to them to show a rapturous smile, illuminating and affectionate as the man before her opened a blue velvet box with a silver bow to present her with a solid gold ring with an extravagant diamond the size of a bell from a reindeer's collar.

The clock tolled. _One_.

_Better hurry up and get this over with_, Jack thought. He smiled out to the audience, who hushed immediately to hear the words he'd speak on this historical occasion—Santa was proposing to the future Mrs. Claus!

"You have waited twelve years for this. Twelve long years." His features shifted to accommodate an expression of sympathy. Clarabella danced in her spot.

_Two_.

"You shouldn't have to wait a moment longer—and so you shan't. As soon as you say 'yes,' you will also say, 'I do.'" He gestured with his hand, and an elf led a very disapproving Mother Nature on stage.

_Three._

"Marry me, Clarabella. Tonight. On Christmas Eve, the most magical night of all. Marry me, become my wife—Mrs. Clarabella Claus—and we shall live in glory, in fame, and in power…" He watched the breath catch in her throat, "_forever._"

Scott fruitlessly struggled against the security guards.

_Four_.

"Marry me, and all this," he swept a hand broadly around the resort, "will be ours. _Forever_."

_Five._

"Marry me," he leaned in close to breathe his final bribe, "and you will never want for anything—jewelry, clothing, gifts, houses, money—_nothing_ will ever be denied you."

_Six_.

"All I need to hear is just one tiny word." He squeezed her hand. "Clarabella Bloom, will you become Clarabella Claus?"

_Seven_.

Clarabella waited. Surely he would say it soon… Right? As the moments passed, her joyous features slackened, and her hand lowered from her mouth. He had said everything she wanted to hear, except one deal-breaking declaration…

_Eight_.

_Nine_.

Jack's adam's apple bobbed nervously. They needed to wrap this up immediately, or he could lose everything. Turning to the audience in desperation for support, he prodded them, "What do you all say? Wouldn't she make a beautiful Mrs. Claus?" The audience burst out in applause and cries of 'Say yes!'

_Ten._ Still Clarabella stared at him, waiting for him to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"Come now, darling, how hard can it be to say one word? You're not _that_ blonde, are you?" He teased with a fox-like grin. The audience erupted in uproarious laughter.

Clarabella's face grew red as she looked out at the audience and saw everyone pointing and laughing. At her. She was just another show, another act, like the elves. Like the North Pole. Like Jack.

Her eyes fluttered as a small spark of realization ignited in her mind, and she turned to watch the elves' reactions. They all looked hopeless and helpless. Was this what it felt like every day for them—to be constantly laughed at and pointed at because they were just another act? Another experience for the wealthy to brag about when they returned home?

_Eleven_.

Clarabella picked up Jack's snow globe and studied it. In the center of it was him, arms outstretched, as the resort sat below him. That was all he cared about: himself. He was destroying the holiday—destroying them all.

All because of his frozen heart.

"Never." Jack recoiled and the audience gasped.

"What? What did you say to me?"

"Never!" She tipped her chin up at him rebelliously and glared. "I will never marry you! You don't love me." Tears prickled her eyes, but she continued through her heartbreak, "You never have. All you care about is fame and fortune for yourself!" Nose-to-nose with him now, she hissed, "I could never marry someone who didn't love me. Not now, not ever."

Jack grabbed hold of her shoulders, growling in furious distress. "Say yes, you spoiled brat! Say yes!"

Clarabella threw the snow globe to the floor, sending shards of glass everywhere. "No. Your reign will end. Tonight."

Jack's lip twitched, and Clarabella lunged at the chance. "Aw," she drawled, her low voice dripping in sarcasm, "do I sense a pout?"

_Twelve_.

Jack's face contorted as the twelfth toll resonated throughout the resort. Scott finally broke free from the security guards as golden magic entwined the couple, still locked in a loathing glare.

Scott grabbed hold of Jack just as the stage fell from beneath them. The North Pole faded around them, and the three were whisked back in time twelve years to the night Scott Calvin became Santa Claus.

And Clarabella was right: Jack's reign did end.

**Author's Note:** Phew! Another long chapter! Well? What does everyone think of this time jump scene? Where do Clara and Jack go from here? Please leave a review! :)

_Trivia Question:_ Why doesn't Clarabella accept Jack's proposal?


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